<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940</id><updated>2012-02-09T18:14:32.232-06:00</updated><category term='childhood'/><category term='sad'/><category term='rollercoaster mood'/><category term='Hair'/><category term='YOUR FACE'/><category term='Fort'/><category term='wedding'/><category term='usefulness'/><category term='Gifts'/><category term='stuff'/><category term='shopping'/><category term='thanksgiving'/><category term='COR'/><category term='Q'/><category term='relationships'/><category term='Dumb jerks'/><category term='Phone poll'/><category term='catch up'/><category term='pitiful'/><category term='Fear'/><category term='you'/><category term='St. Petersburg'/><category term='leaving'/><category term='Ignorant Family'/><category term='chocolate'/><category term='Playlist'/><category term='Grandpa'/><category term='Door County'/><category term='Scary feelings.'/><category term='your dog'/><category term='Afterschool'/><category term='Adaptation'/><category term='ginger'/><category term='JOB'/><category term='work'/><category term='Cheers'/><category term='Song Lyrics'/><category term='excitement'/><category term='14th circle of hell'/><category term='torture'/><category term='Running'/><category term='lonely'/><category term='Delta Lodge'/><category term='Thankful'/><category term='gag me with your arrow cupid'/><category term='Exams'/><category term='dogs'/><category term='Sesame Street'/><category term='Sushi'/><category term='Graduation'/><category term='Georgia'/><category term='Palin'/><category term='Boredom'/><category term='dream'/><category term='Birthday'/><category term='crying.'/><category term='school'/><category term='Goals'/><category term='decisions'/><category term='Did you know'/><category term='Teaching'/><category term='Museum'/><category term='church'/><category term='Choir'/><category term='Love'/><category term='Sleep'/><category term='Russia'/><category term='Better'/><category term='Dance Party'/><category term='First'/><category term='Tasty'/><category term='Blathering idiot'/><category term='missing friends'/><category term='cows'/><category term='resolutions'/><category term='QUIZ'/><category term='Family'/><category term='Teaching blog'/><category term='salad'/><category term='Weekend'/><category term='NaBloPoMo'/><category term='Alex'/><category term='Madison Cadwell'/><category term='Kansas City'/><category term='MTTP'/><category term='Interview'/><category term='slide show'/><category term='Coffee'/><category term='church replacement'/><category term='Busy'/><category term='Seattle'/><category term='Christmas gifts'/><category term='Match'/><category term='Food'/><category term='Mr. Baseball'/><category term='Great Day'/><category term='Denial'/><category term='Home'/><category term='Conventions'/><category term='Changes'/><category term='new blog'/><category term='Bubbles'/><category term='random blathering'/><category term='delayed post'/><category term='Music'/><category term='not scary'/><category term='Saturday'/><category term='2008 Summary'/><category term='meeting'/><category term='happy'/><category term='coat'/><category term='CV'/><category term='Blogging'/><category term='Shoulder'/><category term='post milestone'/><category term='Beautiful Sunday'/><category term='Bobby pins'/><category term='knitting'/><category term='Roadtrip'/><category term='Endorsements'/><category term='Mario'/><category term='Dreams'/><title type='text'>French Rangoon</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>291</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-708041186482550023</id><published>2009-05-18T17:15:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-18T17:18:38.131-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dumb jerks'/><title type='text'>A contrast, if you will.</title><content type='html'>This is what my friends attended last week in Seattle: &lt;a href="http://bratkatty.blogspot.com/2009/05/visuals-first-explanations-later.html"&gt;Gay Bingo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is how people feel where I live: &lt;a href="http://englishrussia.com/?p=2763"&gt;Homophobia breeding ground&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-708041186482550023?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/708041186482550023/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=708041186482550023' title='24 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/708041186482550023'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/708041186482550023'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2009/05/contrast-if-you-will.html' title='A contrast, if you will.'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>24</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-1213562925175358573</id><published>2009-05-14T15:48:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-14T15:54:28.168-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sushi Change</title><content type='html'>So, I know this is random, but... WELCOME TO MY BLOG!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wednesday is sushi night.  Fiona and I have sushi every Wednesday, it's just how it is.  Always at the same place, until last night.  Because of terrible service, we walked an extra quarter mile down the street and it was sooo much better.  They have really cushy chairs, with wrap around cushy arms, servers who speak English really well, they play old music videos on the tvs (instead of birds, birds and more birds), their sushi is a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;tiny&lt;/span&gt; bit more expensive, but their soup is better and bigger and their whole menu is more extensive.  Plus, we didn't wait 20 minutes to have our order taken.  No siree.  Instead of waiting an entire HOUR before our rolls came, we had food in 15 min.  We were HOME in an hour. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I was sitting there, gushing about how wonderful the place was, proclaming that this was our new sushi place, Sheryl Crow came on the TV with the video for...."A change would do you good".  I litterally got goosebumps.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-1213562925175358573?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/1213562925175358573/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=1213562925175358573' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/1213562925175358573'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/1213562925175358573'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2009/05/sushi-change.html' title='Sushi Change'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-3758821279361977706</id><published>2009-03-27T18:37:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-27T18:44:56.493-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cheers'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fort'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Changes'/><title type='text'>Part two from the fort</title><content type='html'>So, things have gotten pretty strange around these parts.  I think it's pretty much a done deal that two of the teachers are leaving here in a month, which is about two months earlier than their contract allows.  These two teachers happen to be the two people I have lived with since I got here...Once again, things will be changing and I will feel like the helpless dimwit that I am.  Hence, watching multiple episodes of Cheers from an indoor fort.  Is normal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This weekend should be pretty good, but I already feel overextended.  That's not a good feeling, but hopefully the events that I overextend myself with will be enjoyable.  Tomorrow I am going to the market, planning for the trip to Moscow and attending a Russkie Stol at my flat.  Sunday I am going snowboarding again!  That sounds exciting, but it also means a whole day where I don't get to sit at home in my pajamas doing nothing.  Must get over that.  I really want to run, but it is just too cold, I think.  I just need a good running sweatshirt.  I would just go buy one, but I know that I shouldn't anyway, since snowboarding will be enough exercise for some time and I don't want to be sore for it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-3758821279361977706?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/3758821279361977706/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=3758821279361977706' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/3758821279361977706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/3758821279361977706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2009/03/part-two-from-fort.html' title='Part two from the fort'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-1735759531429509992</id><published>2009-03-27T02:50:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-27T02:54:37.910-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Womb</title><content type='html'>I know it's been quite a while since I posted on this blog, and yes, you probably should be concerned when I feel the need to go 'private' and post here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything seems to be going fine. Just below the 'fine' surface though is this nagging anxiety and sadness and loneliness. Getting by and surviving are different than thriving. My life is so temporary. Everyone that I know now and talk to will be gone in less than four months. In 5 months I will be living in another country and leading a completely different life than I am living now and than I was living 5 months ago. Believe it or not, I don't like change. I like change that I can control, of course, but this is not that kind of change, or at least it doesn't feel like it. Being so susceptible to change means that I am not safe as far as I see it. I just don't feel protected here, basically. I am not going to pull a &lt;a href="http://www.dooce.com/"&gt;dooce&lt;/a&gt;, but I totally could, if you catch my drift.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight, Elizabeth and I made a fort in our living room. That's right, folks, an old fashioned, 8 year old little girl fort, complete with blankets as walls and ceiling, and lamps, chairs and an ironing board for the structure. Pillows inside, pictures on the walls and a little lamp to read children's books in Russian. Well, Liza has gone to bed, and I don't think I want to leave. Strange, but I feel safe here. I can forget that I am in a scary, far away land where nobody speaks my language and I am generally treated like a disposable tool. The fort feels like it's my own little womb. Well, only better, cause I am pretty sure mom mom didn't have wireless internet. Too bad the floor is as hard as crap. No sleeping in here tonight....&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/ScyFxRWshsI/AAAAAAAAJ3s/ZlTGEZUWW64/s1600-h/Fort+006.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/ScyFxRWshsI/AAAAAAAAJ3s/ZlTGEZUWW64/s400/Fort+006.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317772341536392898" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-1735759531429509992?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/1735759531429509992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=1735759531429509992' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/1735759531429509992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/1735759531429509992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2009/03/womb.html' title='The Womb'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/ScyFxRWshsI/AAAAAAAAJ3s/ZlTGEZUWW64/s72-c/Fort+006.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-1869570034937214651</id><published>2009-02-10T15:46:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-10T15:47:50.293-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Hurricane and Survival Guide</title><content type='html'>Look at this simple eloquence in these lyrics (by that I mean, the lyrics kind of suck, but the song rocks!) Cloud Cult - Hurricane and Survival Guide&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;I've had enough of hiding underneath my covers&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt; I'm done with all that poop that brings me down&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt; down&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt; down&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt; Don't bring me down&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt; down&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt; down&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt; I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt; I'll laugh my whole way through the hurricanes and fire&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt; That's why you don't wanna bring me down&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt; That's why you don't wanna bring me down&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt; I've had enough of hiding underneath my covers&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt; I'm done with all that poop that brings me down&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt; down&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt; down&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt; Don't bring me down&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt; down&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt; down&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt; I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt; I will laugh my way through the hurricanes and fire&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt; That's why you don't wanna bring me down&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt; That's why you don't wanna bring me down&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-1869570034937214651?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/1869570034937214651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=1869570034937214651' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/1869570034937214651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/1869570034937214651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2009/02/hurricane-and-survival-guide.html' title='Hurricane and Survival Guide'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-1698966846692454609</id><published>2009-02-08T16:42:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-08T17:01:45.674-06:00</updated><title type='text'>It's been almost a MONTH?!</title><content type='html'>Crazy.  I have been a busy little teacher over here, so I have only had time to update one blog.  Sorry yall.  But I wanted to share some pics that aren't appropo for the other site.  Welcome. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SY9ivfXU1kI/AAAAAAAAJIg/gG95YY9nEz4/s1600-h/banya.etc+110.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SY9ivfXU1kI/AAAAAAAAJIg/gG95YY9nEz4/s400/banya.etc+110.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300563854451070530" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New years.  I was standing on a chair, dancing and singing.  Hence the wall holding and the open mouth.  Think I've lost weight?!  And, from last night at Mod Club:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SY9gcWqTgYI/AAAAAAAAJIA/2gAZmYv9vwY/s1600-h/rock+club+019.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SY9gcWqTgYI/AAAAAAAAJIA/2gAZmYv9vwY/s400/rock+club+019.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300561326673985922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;And yeah, I know I'm cool.  Don't worry, I just wanted to show off my wrist warmers and my ring.  The cig was just a bonus.  I didn't enjoy it.  But I do enjoy this picture.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-1698966846692454609?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/1698966846692454609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=1698966846692454609' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/1698966846692454609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/1698966846692454609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2009/02/its-been-almost-month.html' title='It&apos;s been almost a MONTH?!'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SY9ivfXU1kI/AAAAAAAAJIg/gG95YY9nEz4/s72-c/banya.etc+110.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-8910075315175212463</id><published>2009-01-12T02:07:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-12T02:09:27.357-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Be happy</title><content type='html'>Be happy I don't have time to write about how I am really feeling.  It's not good.  Hopefully by the time I write something it will be better, but at the moment I am very close to dropping $1000 and hopping the next flight home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-8910075315175212463?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/8910075315175212463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=8910075315175212463' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/8910075315175212463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/8910075315175212463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2009/01/be-happy.html' title='Be happy'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-6467453100152117246</id><published>2009-01-04T08:44:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-04T09:34:57.291-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Museum'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Food'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Russia'/><title type='text'>Again, with the dreams...</title><content type='html'>&lt;meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"&gt;&lt;meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"&gt;&lt;meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"&gt;&lt;meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"&gt;&lt;link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CJen%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"&gt;&lt;o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="country-region"&gt;&lt;/o:smarttagtype&gt;&lt;o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="PlaceType"&gt;&lt;/o:smarttagtype&gt;&lt;o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="PlaceName"&gt;&lt;/o:smarttagtype&gt;&lt;o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"&gt;&lt;/o:smarttagtype&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:worddocument&gt;   &lt;w:view&gt;Normal&lt;/w:View&gt;   &lt;w:zoom&gt;0&lt;/w:Zoom&gt;   &lt;w:compatibility&gt;    &lt;w:breakwrappedtables/&gt;    &lt;w:snaptogridincell/&gt;    &lt;w:wraptextwithpunct/&gt;    &lt;w:useasianbreakrules/&gt;   &lt;/w:Compatibility&gt;   &lt;w:browserlevel&gt;MicrosoftInternetExplorer4&lt;/w:BrowserLevel&gt;  &lt;/w:WordDocument&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if !mso]&gt;&lt;object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"&gt;&lt;/object&gt; &lt;style&gt; st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;style&gt; &lt;!--  /* Style Definitions */  p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal 	{mso-style-parent:""; 	margin:0in; 	margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:12.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 	{size:8.5in 11.0in; 	margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; 	mso-header-margin:.5in; 	mso-footer-margin:.5in; 	mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 	{page:Section1;} --&gt; &lt;/style&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt;  /* Style Definitions */  table.MsoNormalTable 	{mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; 	mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; 	mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; 	mso-style-noshow:yes; 	mso-style-parent:""; 	mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; 	mso-para-margin:0in; 	mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:10.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman";} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;So a couple of weeks ago I went museuming with Denise.  We started with the &lt;st1:place&gt;&lt;st1:placename&gt;Zoological&lt;/st1:placename&gt; &lt;st1:placetype&gt;Museum&lt;/st1:placetype&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; and saw hundreds upon hundreds of stuffed animals.  Kinda creepy, but you get over it pretty quickly.  I even got to introduce my Aussie friend to a badger and a skunk!  I was so proud.  The main attraction at this museum is the baby woolly mammoth.  That wasn't very exciting, if you ask me, but nobody did.  The zoological museum's biggest downfall: NONE of the signs were in anything but Russian.  So really, I learned...... nothing.  Just looked at stuff.  It did make me think a lot more, like... all of these 15 animals look &lt;i&gt;similar&lt;/i&gt; to the American grey squirrel that I saw EVERY DAY OF MY LIFE... but I can't tell which is the REAL one.  Same with white tail deer, bison, skunks, etc.  It's kind of embarrassing to really have to inspect and consider and reconsider if that animal really comes from your backyard.  Denise was of no use, since all of her 'home' animals are exotic to me, and vise versa. Luckily, I readily pointed out the badger and the bald eagle, like a good Wisconsinite (the badger being both the state animal and my alma mater's mascot).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the Zoological museum, we crossed the street (and wandered and wondered at signs) to find the Kunstkamera museum, which seemed to be a museum of cultural items from the past.  Most of this museum was also only in Russian, so again, just gaping at stuff.  There was one section of the museum, at the top, in the back, that was in both Russian and English.  The 'museum of oddities'...  I guess Peter the 1st had somewhat of an obsession with researching the human body.  Basically, this room was filled with dead babies and dead baby &lt;i&gt;parts&lt;/i&gt;.  In jars, on shelves.  I had lost Denise before we got into this room and as soon as I stepped over the threshold and realized where I was, I thought, 'I can't do this on my own... Where's Denise?!'  I found her quickly and began exploring with support (moral, imaginary support, but still).  It was enthralling and appalling, equally.  They had baby heads, baby insides, deformed babies, 'sensory organs' (like baby lips and eye sockets and ears), conjoined twins of all varieties...  In each case, there was also a distraction, usually aquatically themed.  Signs 1-10 would say something about each jar, and sign 11 would be 'starfish', or 'miniature alligator from &lt;st1:country-region&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Zimbabwe&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;' or something.  The effectiveness of this was lost on me; I felt it actually enhanced the creepiness factor.  Baby fingers AND an alligator, in the same case?  This whole time, I was also thinking that there is no way that this type of thing would come to fruition in the &lt;st1:country-region&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;US&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;, so I should look and see things that are rare.  I was starting to fear that I would have nightmares about this room though too, since I have had nightmares about being locked in a museum overnight, and this would be the WORST place to be locked in and forgotten overnight. Finally, we left, because the museum was closing, stopping first in the loo.  When I came out, all the lights were off, and Denise and I had to walk through part of the place in the dark to get our coats. *shudder*  It was pretty terrible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We then decided to walk back across the bridge and try out the Korean restaurant on our block.  We told stories about home and other places we visited and talked about various other random topics.  I believe I complained to her about the meat situation in &lt;st1:country-region&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Russia&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;, because we were about to eat beef, and that's rare.  At Carl's Jr here, I haven't had one burger with out 'bits' in it.  I am not sure what these bits are, but, they are hard and shouldn't be there, end of story.  Denise told me of when she was living in &lt;st1:country-region&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Indonesia&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; and about how hard it was to find quality meat there.  She had local friends (and lived with them) who would sometimes cook for her.  Once they spent &lt;i&gt;hours and hours&lt;/i&gt; making this wonderful sauce for chicken, a traditional sauce  that is supposed to be unique to each chef/maker and wonderfully delicious, so of course Denise was looking forward to some tasty local cuisine.  After the sauce was made and the chicken boiled, everything was smelling delicious and amazing.  Then, after all that, Denise watched in horror as the women chopped up the chicken, right through bones, cartilage and flesh.  Everything was chopped into tiny pieces and thrown in with the sauce. Every bite was crunchy and full of grainy, sandy bits.  I was pretty traumatized by this picture, but then our food came and I got over it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't escape nightmares that night though, oh no.  After the stuffed animals, dead babies and cut up chicken bones, I knew that I wouldn't have a good night sleep.  But what did I dream about, after all that?  The chicken.  I dreamed that I was living in a place where the only meat you could find had this gravelly texture, and it was horrifying.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-6467453100152117246?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/6467453100152117246/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=6467453100152117246' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/6467453100152117246'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/6467453100152117246'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2009/01/again-with-dreams.html' title='Again, with the dreams...'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-9041536914492017256</id><published>2009-01-01T08:31:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-01T10:04:57.666-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Interview'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='2008 Summary'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='post milestone'/><title type='text'>2009! 300 Posts! Interview!</title><content type='html'>Well, this is an exciting day for my readers!  It's New Years, it's my 300th post, AND I am answering some questions from one of my favorite bloggers!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2008 was a banner year, I'd say.  Highlights include&lt;br /&gt;Winter:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Shoveling until the end of time&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Skiing in Northern WI&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Snowshoeing &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Finding Trinity&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;Spring:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Not freezing as much&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Watching lake Mendota rise almost 2 feet&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Hatching the 'teaching English plan'&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Becoming majorly involved with a great group of people at Trinity&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Singing in a choir again&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Visiting friends in Seattle!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;Summer:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Static Monkey's wedding!  Friends! Fun!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Getting my TEFL at Midwest Teacher Training Program&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Not working&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Concerts on the Square&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Farmer's Markets&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;First trip to Chicago&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Moving in with a stranger and her dog&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Visiting my family in Georgia&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Camping in Door County with Hoofers&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;Fall:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Applying to jobs worldwide&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Trip to Kansas City&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Having an interview at 2am in my previous place of employment&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Being hired via email &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Moving out of the stranger's house&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Going away parties&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Moving to Russia to teach English as a Foreign Language&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;It's winter again, but most of it will be in 2009, so we'll wait on those highlights.  My life looks completely different now than it did in January 2008, its much more demanding and challenging, which is totally what I was looking for a year ago, I was bored then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did you look back on your year?  Has much changed for you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;NOW!&lt;/span&gt;  On to the Interview!!!  The Maven at &lt;a href="http://stay-at-home-mayhem.blogspot.com/"&gt;Stay At Home Mayhem&lt;/a&gt; posted an interview on her blog and offered to interview anyone who asked (as long as they do the same, including posting rules and all that jazz), so I emailed, I asked and I received! So, without further ado...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. If you could change one thing about life in Russia, what would it be?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Um, gulp.  One thing?  There are so many though! Ok ok, I guess I would have to pick The Food.  Every single thing here is different from what I am used to - I guess except the pasta, dried pasta is dried pasta everywhere.  But, what I would give for a hamburger without unidentifiable 'bits' in it from Carl's Jr, real lettuce - not cabbage disguised as lettuce, following from that a SALAD.  An honest to goodness salad with dressing (which they don't have at all, salad dressing).  Doritos, Oreos, Diet Coke (not coke light... it has a really different flavor), hummus, cream cheese, fresh vegetables that arent half rotten when you buy them, the list goes on and on.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A close second would be not having a clothes dryer.  Drip drying your clothes pretty much sucks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Is Wisconsin famous for anything other than That 70's Show and cheese?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Not really.  We are the country's #1 producer of cranberries though.  I believe we drink more brandy than any other place in the country, maybe more alcohol in general.  It gets awfully cold? Other tv shows were set in WI though, like Happy Days.  Apparently we are known to have quite the midwestern accent, but I say that Minnesotans are worse, unless you go up by the UP of Michigan... then, it's debatable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Have you ever used your knitting powers for good (like maybe hats for orphans, or something pretty for The Maven), or purely for evil/selfish endeavors?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Well, I guess I've never donated my creations to non profits or anything, but I have also never kept anything I have ever made.  I have made scarves for presents, blankets, and I attempted a hat once. (ok, fine, I kept the hat, but mostly cause it was way too big for me and I have the biggest head out of everyone I know.  Ok?)  I am a quite slow knitter, so the list of actually &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;completed&lt;/span&gt; projects is pretty short.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt; 4. Name three songs that remind you most of the 90's, then tell us why they do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah, the 90's.  I was 6-16years old in the 90's. In that time, My dad went to war for a year, my parents were divorced, middle school happened (shudder) and I moved at least 3 times.  It was quite tumultuous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Cotton Eye Joe would have to be on the list.  Many a Middle School dance was not complete until this song was played and I had hooked arms with friends and SWUNG in circles.  Good times.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Man on the Moon by REM.  This was part of a permanent soundtrack to playing in our 4ft deep, above-ground pool in the summer.  There are a set of probably 10 songs that, when they come on, I immediately am back in our pool, clinging horizontally to the ladder, pretending to be caught in a tornado. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;UR by Alanis Morissette.  Actually, anything by Alanis Morissette from the 90's could be on here.  This song, in particular reminds me of that time because because it was probably my favorite song for years, I even had a shirt from her website that said 'precious UR', thanks to &lt;a href="http://artichokeshavehearts.wordpress.com/"&gt;Artichokes&lt;/a&gt;.  I wore it unabashedly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;5. You're a teacher now, but what would your inner child have wanted you to pursue as a career?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I wanted to do something with medicine when I was little.  For the longest time I wanted to be a veterinarian, but what country girl doesn't at some point?  I spent whole days memorizing dog breeds from a book I checked out from the library at least a dozen times.  I surprise myself now when I see a dog and I'm like 'That's a King Charles Spaniel' or 'Look, a German Wirehaired Pointer!' I'm sure I wanted to be a writer, an actress, and a singer at some point.  I was not really interested in planning my future career in earnest... this is why I am still confused about what I want to be, and thus, ran away to Russia to avoid making decisions. It's worked so far. :)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, that's that!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Here are the rules if you want to participate in 5 Questions.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;ol style="font-style: italic;" type="1"&gt;&lt;li&gt;Request an interview in the comments of this post, leaving me your email if I don't already have it.&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;You can then answer the questions on your blog.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;You should also post these rules along with an offer to interview anyone else who emails you wanting to be interviewed.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Anyone who asks to be interviewed should be sent 5 questions to answer on their blog. I would be nice if the questions were individualized for each blogger.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-9041536914492017256?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/9041536914492017256/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=9041536914492017256' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/9041536914492017256'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/9041536914492017256'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2009/01/2009-300-posts-interview.html' title='2009! 300 Posts! Interview!'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-5132416003428897131</id><published>2008-12-21T12:02:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-21T12:10:13.589-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='knitting'/><title type='text'>Knitting</title><content type='html'>I have been a knitting fool lately.  Finished the baby blanket for my sister - well, basically.  Mom will have to sew in the ends...  I worked until 3am on it the night before it had to be done, got up early, worked for another hour, went to work, worked for another hour and then had to leave it in a mailbox.  At least it is adequate size though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I am working on a scarf that artichoke's mom asked me to make 'before Christmas'... at least I am STARTING it before Christmas!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also have my eye on &lt;a href="http://www.knitty.com/ISSUEwinter08/PATTfernglade.php"&gt;this pattern&lt;/a&gt;.  Perfect for Russia and only one step up from the easiest level, so maybe I can actually DO it.  Finally, I am considering &lt;a href="http://coburgchoir.blogspot.com/2008/04/free-pattern-benetton-inspired-chain.html"&gt;this scarf&lt;/a&gt;.  Not very traditional, yet easy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to do SOMETHING with my three week vacation, right?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-5132416003428897131?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/5132416003428897131/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=5132416003428897131' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/5132416003428897131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/5132416003428897131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/12/knitting.html' title='Knitting'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-2381211014075597279</id><published>2008-12-17T15:14:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-17T15:18:49.295-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas gifts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Teaching'/><title type='text'>Two very important things</title><content type='html'>1.  Today I had a party with my Intermediate students and... they got me gifts! Chocolate and champagne and (this is the coolest part)a shirt.  Not just any shirt though!  Two of my male students are in the naval academy down the street from the school and... they got me the shirt that is part of the naval uniform!  It's long sleeved and has dark (navy-ha!) blue and white stripes, a boat neck!  It's completely authentic and they included the 'scarf' thing that goes around the neck!  You might say I am pretty pumped about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  My Big Sister is having her baby tomorrow!!!! I am so proud.  This will be my EIGHTH time being an auntie.  My siblings are so fertile.  :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-2381211014075597279?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/2381211014075597279/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=2381211014075597279' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/2381211014075597279'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/2381211014075597279'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/12/two-very-important-things.html' title='Two very important things'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-6833836483534359029</id><published>2008-12-15T03:20:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-15T03:29:41.827-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dreams'/><title type='text'>Really?</title><content type='html'>I have crazy crazy dreams.  I believe that everyone does, but somehow I remember them better or more often than most people. And, well, I like to share.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dreampt last night that I was told that I had been adopted when I was little.  Some random, 30 something lady with short, wavy dark brown hair was telling me that she was actually my mom.  It's amazing how devistated I was.  This meant that I wasn't actually related to my mom or sisters AT ALL.  And who the hell was this lady?  I told her she looked much too young to have had a child 24 years ago and her response was 'I am a woman'.  Right, that makes a ton of sense.  There was definately a baby in the dream as well, not sure whose it was, but it was really cute.  Also... Something to do with some people in my family being in a really tall tree and not being able to get down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does anyone out there have the secret to having NORMAL dreams?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-6833836483534359029?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/6833836483534359029/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=6833836483534359029' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/6833836483534359029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/6833836483534359029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/12/really.html' title='Really?'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-3277704421021993147</id><published>2008-12-11T10:18:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T10:21:58.546-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Whoa, Nellie.</title><content type='html'>So.  Um.  Without taking back what I said or denying how I felt, let's just say that I apologise for everyone having to read that last post.  Never have I felt my emotions crest and fall so quickly than I have here.  I'm ok.  Things will be ok.  It isn't that everyone hates me, they just have their own lives to worry about, everywhere.  I KNOW that things are easier to do in your native country and in your native tongue, but everyone is busy, it's almost Christmas, and so on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is why I have two blogs.  Now I remember.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-3277704421021993147?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/3277704421021993147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=3277704421021993147' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/3277704421021993147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/3277704421021993147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/12/whoa-nellie.html' title='Whoa, Nellie.'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-5471150763389724341</id><published>2008-12-11T03:30:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T03:45:12.698-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Ok ok, I admit it</title><content type='html'>I am fucking desperate.  I tried sending a plee to some people via email two days ago, and I got a response from one person.  My aunt.  Not even my best friend who would have to walk 2 blocks (for $10 profit) will help me.  No one here will be bothered enough to help me either.  I don't think people understand.  If I can't find a way to send money home, I will have to COME HOME.  It isn't like I haven't tried to find a way to get money home.  I am working my ass off over here.  Like, litterally.  Why should ANYTHING take 4 full days to do?  And then it still doesn't work?  Bullshit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am throughly confused, frustrated and hurt by the whole situation.  It isn't like I am stupid, I am just underequipped for this.  As in, I don't speak the language, so, I need someone to go with me to the stupid Western Union office, one time.  Just once, so that I can figure it out, and then it will work.  Well, and I need someone in the states to pick up my money to put it in my bank account, but right now that is looking like it might not happen.  Do you all want me back that badly?  Or, do you really just not care if this works out for me or not?  This is all I have been thinking about, money, for the past 2 weeks. It's just shit is what it is.  Everyday I have tried, and have been brought to tears by the impossibility of me getting anything done here. I would say 'by myself', but its looking more and more like that's how I have to do everything here, so saying that would just be redundant.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-5471150763389724341?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/5471150763389724341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=5471150763389724341' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/5471150763389724341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/5471150763389724341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/12/ok-ok-i-admit-it.html' title='Ok ok, I admit it'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-8444694008174074386</id><published>2008-12-06T11:08:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-06T12:17:44.204-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thanksgiving'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='delayed post'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Russia'/><title type='text'>TWO blogs?</title><content type='html'>So, having two blogs is starting to be a little much.  I think I can stick it out if you can.  Are you with me?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night, I really wanted to post, and wouldn't you know it?  The damn internet was out again.  Sabotaged by the Russians again!  (wait - again?  when did they sabotage me last?  eh, not important I guess.) The class that I was given was a one on one student and he came in and changed the duration to only 1 academic hour (45 minutes) instead of 2.  Who am I to argue with that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a few missed attempts, my dad figured out how to call me here on a cell phone.  He was quite happy to have found a way to call me, that's for sure.  It was good to talk to him, even if I almost cried twice.  Why is it that I cry so easily over financial matters?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of that - I have 10 Rubles to my name.  That's like... a quarter. A QUARTER OF A DOLLAR.  Luckily we get paid on Monday, and I can pay Denise back for the 1,000 Rubles she loaned me on Tuesday.  I could have made it without her help, but it wouldn't have been nearly as much fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanksgiving taught me that I am somewhat of a snob.  I already admitted to being a snob about bread and crab rangoon (so much so, I even named a BLOG about it!).  Turns out I am a snob about even more random food.  Like, cranberries.  Some could probably say they understand, knowing where I come from.  Home of CranFest, Cranberry Country Suites, and a water tower actually decorated with the giant fruit.  Still, somehow this surprised me, this cranberry snobbery. As I sat sorting the tiny, soft cranberries into 'good' and 'bad' piles, I felt a little homesick.  "Where &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; come from, we have BIG, FIRM cranberries.  Cranberries that HURT when you throw them at people, and bounce when they hit the floor!"  Somehow my 80 year old grandmother voice rolled through my head - as my thoughts are wont to really run wild and even develop their own personalities when I am engaged in such a mind numbing task.  After throwing out the rotted or dried cranberries, along with the sticks and leaves and dirt that was included in the purchase, I had about half of what I paid for.  The sauce turned out pretty good though - but, I still don't like the texture.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh - I did write a post last night, just not online.  So without further ado, another delayed post!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Such a good day.  I am exhausted, but that is to be expected at 1am.  Today, I just felt good.  I wasn’t too stressed out by the commute – I was confident about getting there today.  And, I was totally prepared for class, so that was basically stress free.  And, I love the people that I work with in Petergof, really.  Like, they are just wonderful.  I wish I could explain it better, but the two Oksanas – one of them is just my personal guardian angel, who makes fun of me now for wearing my thin coat and being forgetful and things, and the other is learning English and is just so cute.  When I am there, she will pull up a chair and sit right in front of me to talk.  She wants to learn so badly and is improving quite a lot.  Then there is Marina – the Russian teacher there who stopped talking to the Blond Oksana (the one learning English) when I walked in because she said she wanted to make me feel as comfortable as possible, and that wouldn’t work while they were speaking in Russian.  So sweet.  And then there’s Mark – Regular Oksana’s son – he must be about 6.  He can speak like 5 words in English, but today we totally bonded over a stuffed dragon, some tickling and a little teasing.  Both of my classes learned something today, and were pretty excited about it too.  Like I said.  Today was a good day.  (well, except that it snowed and I was wearing thin flats, but… that was my fault)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The End.  Thanks for visiting!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-8444694008174074386?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/8444694008174074386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=8444694008174074386' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/8444694008174074386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/8444694008174074386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/12/two-blogs.html' title='TWO blogs?'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-8441913836457798180</id><published>2008-12-02T07:50:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-02T07:54:51.348-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Time delay</title><content type='html'>An excerpt from an email I sent yesterday during the 'no posting zone' time period.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Why on earth am I here?  It isn't like this was a DREAM of mine.  I made the decision to do this before I even started coming to Trinity, when my life seemed completely stalled and depressing and I was BORED.  I just needed some excitement and something to work towards. I really tried to give myself a reason to be here - like, It's good for me to see how the other side of the world lives! or I'll find out so much about myself!  Maybe other people told me those things to work towards.  But right now I am learning about myself, and I don't like what I am seeing.  I am a huge wuss.  I really hate looking stupid and it happens every single day here.  And the people think I am stupid too, or they are just mean and rude, one or the other.  Also, I won't go anywhere alone if it's the first time I've been there.  Like - the post office.  Apparently there's one across the street from my school, but I haven't ever seen it and I am not one to walk into random buildings.  This brings me to the second thing I have learned.  I must be so dumb.  Really.  Things should be getting easier for me, but it doesn't feel like they are. I hate how much I have to use other people to do anything - I feel completely helpless and hopeless. Now I am stressed out because of my financial situation (I haven't made enough $ to send home, and those student loans keep automatically withdrawing - I am really in the hole with the bank now... ). That seems so superficial, to be worried about money while I am here, but...It seems like a big deal, especially when the only way I can figure to get money home involves venturing into a bank with Western Union... BY MYSELF.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh.  I am not one to give up on things, but is this all worthless?  Are there things that haven't happened that I should stick around for?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for that.  Hopefully tomorrow will be better.  And, Thanksgiving was good.  We had a good crowd of about 7 people, a turkey, stuffing, gravy, potatoes, carrots, bread, champagne.  Told stories and jokes.  Tell me, why, then, do I feel so crappy the next day?&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somehow I don't feel that bad today.  Maybe tomorrow will be even better.  (I just got back from the post office with Denise.  Things have been mailed, but not to any of you.  Sorry, had to prioritize - the rents and the church are the only people getting things.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-8441913836457798180?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/8441913836457798180/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=8441913836457798180' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/8441913836457798180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/8441913836457798180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/12/time-delay.html' title='Time delay'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-2940483602296138920</id><published>2008-11-25T15:46:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-25T15:49:58.754-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The ebbing!  The flowing!</title><content type='html'>Yeah,  I thought the title could use some excitement, like random exclamation points.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple of times this week, I felt like I wasn't sad or homesick but I could read the signs detailing how to get there.  I toed the edge, deciding whether or not I should let myself tumble over into 'that feeling'.  There's really no point in going there, that wilderness outpost known as 'homesick', but it almost feels like a lie that I am not sad.  When I want to, I can really put my denial blinders on and plow through, but it's just starting to seem wrong.  I have met some amazing people here, people I hope to become friends with (but I am being a complete weirdo, I fear), but why should I be happy when everything that really know and love is further away in space and time than I can even imagine?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am the furthest I have EVER been away from home, for the longest stretch of time BY FAR.  The longest I had been away from home before this was when I lived with my sister for a summer.  3 months was a long time, but it seems much different than 9 months.  And let me tell you something that I am 100% sure of - and there aren't many things that I am THAT sure of.  Macon, Georgia is NOT   St.Petersburg, Russia. The good news is that people don't fight every night and I don't share a tiny room with a 2 year old and a 12 year old.  Unfortunately I am positive that I can't drive home from here in 15 hours, or at all, even if I had a car, which I don't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good news - I haven't had a panic attack here at all (knock knock knock on wood!), and I am not a complete fuck up at teaching so far either.  I think I have been trying hard.  I actually WANT them to learn and I want to learn, so at least we are on the same path.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basically the title is about the fact that since the beginning of last weekend, I have been really happy, and pretty frustrated, irritable, and content.  Normal daily mood swings, but slightly intensified with less of an outlet for them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not exciting, but neither am I lately.  Sorry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-2940483602296138920?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/2940483602296138920/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=2940483602296138920' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/2940483602296138920'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/2940483602296138920'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/11/ebbing-flowing.html' title='The ebbing!  The flowing!'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-6316925226990156050</id><published>2008-11-20T16:14:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-20T16:15:58.477-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Um, relevant.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Fakin It - Simon and Garfunkel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When she goes, she's gone.&lt;br /&gt;If she stays, she stays here.&lt;br /&gt;The girl does what she wants to do.&lt;br /&gt;She knows what she wants to do.&lt;br /&gt;And I know I'm fakin' it,&lt;br /&gt;I'm not really makin' it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm such a dubious soul,&lt;br /&gt;And a walk in the garden&lt;br /&gt;Wears me down.&lt;br /&gt;Tangled in the fallen vines,&lt;br /&gt;Pickin' up the punch lines,&lt;br /&gt;I've just been fakin' it,&lt;br /&gt;Not really makin' it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is there any danger?&lt;br /&gt;No, no, not really.&lt;br /&gt;Just lean on me.&lt;br /&gt;Takin' time to treat&lt;br /&gt;Your friendly neighbors honestly.&lt;br /&gt;I've just been fakin' it,&lt;br /&gt;I'm not really makin' it.&lt;br /&gt;This feeling of fakin' it--&lt;br /&gt;I still haven't shaken it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-6316925226990156050?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/6316925226990156050/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=6316925226990156050' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/6316925226990156050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/6316925226990156050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/11/um-relevant.html' title='Um, relevant.'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-8605237147999995203</id><published>2008-11-15T10:40:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-15T11:38:10.158-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Adaptation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='missing friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love'/><title type='text'>Adapt, damn it!</title><content type='html'>While I was walking around the market today with some new friends (can I call them friends yet? I dunno - I am uncomfortable calling a relationship so one-sided 'friendship') I was marveling at how malleable, how adaptable people are.  I mean, this 'thing' I am on isn't that crazy of a change as say, moving to Zimbabwe or something, but it illustrates my point anyway.  At first glance, people are very stuck in their ways.  They like their coffee with two sugars, skim milk, extra hot, with a shot of espresso.  They just &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;cannot &lt;/span&gt;sleep on anything less than 800ct sheets, and heaven forbid if their cellphone drops service.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In reality, people don't need all of this.  Don't look at me like that.  I understood this principle before coming to Russia, but it is so much easier to see what you can give up in life from this side of the world.  In the US, people complain about the roads being pitted, or a bathroom without toilet paper, or the fact that their house isn't being regulated at 71.5 degrees, as they would like.  When that same person is thrown into a situation where things are much different....they can just &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;change.  &lt;/span&gt;Of course, the choices are change and accept or be miserable and die.  We can accept having so much less than we expect.  Not only can you accept it, you can get used to it - it becomes your baseline, your norm.  Already, I am getting used to not understanding anything I see or hear, I am starting to fill out my 'foreigner' mold and give up on trying to not act stupid in situations where I just can't help it.  I will eat anything anyone gives me, because it's food, and I accept that I need it - regardless of what 'it' is.  And, bathrooms stink by nature, rarely have toilet paper or soap.  But you gotta pee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This paints a perfectly clear picture of what is important in life.  Some things are given up with just a wince and acceptance, some others feel like someone is cutting my pinky off with a dull, rusty blade.  I didn't grip my pillow and cry at night because I couldn't have a single deluxe cheeseburger from Culvers (but, oh my does that sound good...) or because my sheets were scratchy or because there are no street signs anywhere in the city.  Leaving my friends and family (and other people who don't neatly fall into either category, but deserve their own) racked me with grief.  It's the people, the relationships, the memories that matter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's because I have been reassured to the nth degree that these will all still be there when I return that I can push past that hole in my heart and face those other adaptations.  Love can travel over any distance and powerfully change people, and for that, I am eternally grateful.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-8605237147999995203?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/8605237147999995203/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=8605237147999995203' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/8605237147999995203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/8605237147999995203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/11/adapt-damn-it.html' title='Adapt, damn it!'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-1401542277091993339</id><published>2008-11-12T05:51:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T06:00:30.444-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='not scary'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='happy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Better'/><title type='text'>Read me first</title><content type='html'>ok.  Well..... this morning's little rant seems pretty dramatic right about now.  Today is going well - a fellow teacher took me to the clinic to get my HIV test and had me come home by myself, which was fine... I figured out how to pay for the bus when you don't actually pay the driver.  And then.... wait for it.... the SUN came out!  I don't think I've seen the sun in almost two weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't let the next post down worry you too much.  Right now, I am FINE.  And tonight, I am totally taking a sleeping pill to try and make it through the night.  No naps for this girl today.  I think I should make a new rule about blogging.  No new posts between 1am and 8am.  That is undoubtedly the worst part of the day for me.  The sky didn't start to get light today until 8:30!  Crazy.  And it's only gonna get worse.  On December 21st, the sun doesn't rise until 10am and it sets at 3:50pm.  But then begins the upward swing....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, I have to go to Petergof with Fiona now to teach. I've planned a lesson where I mime this story that they write.  Should be LOADS of fun.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-1401542277091993339?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/1401542277091993339/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=1401542277091993339' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/1401542277091993339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/1401542277091993339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/11/read-me-first.html' title='Read me first'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-2063375169133777411</id><published>2008-11-11T23:24:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T23:26:19.957-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Backlog of posts</title><content type='html'>From November 9th -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you heard? (there’s a rumor in St Petersburg!)  They have another American - ME!  I am writing to you at 3am - I have already had like 5 hours of sleep and woken up a number of times thinking I was late to get up.  Somehow I thought I was going to escape jet lag - ha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My apartment is…. Not what I thought it would be like.  It’s European large - 4 bedrooms and Russian nice.  Everything is pretty old and dirty, but because it exists in our apartment and performs its functions, its almost a luxury.  The people who have been living here haven’t been paying for internet, they’ve been stealing it from some unreliable unsecured source… I will probably convince them that we should just pay the $5 a month and actually have internet consistently.  They seemed like they were working in that direction anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got to the apartment around 4:30pm local time and just wanted to crash.  Forced myself to put away my clothes and met most of the flat mates.  Cassie and Aaron I met last night, Zahra was on her way back from the UK and got in too late, so I haven’t met her yet - and she’s our boss!  I met four other teachers last night too, but two of them I don’t really remember their names because we just randomly passed them on the street.  The other two were in my apartment when I arrived.  Elizabeth from Maine and Stephanie from Scotland.  How about that folks?!  When I meet people I CAN remember names, when it means the difference between being all alone in the largest country in the world or actually knowing someone who can help me negotiate the grocery store (which we did - I got pasta, 2 liter of soda, water, bread, and cookies for about 200 R - $7.50) and get a cell phone (which I believe they will take me to do today after work).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From Yesterday -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s 5am and I am up, again.  Jet lag really sucks guys.  I thought I had it licked on my first night.  I didn’t go to bed early, just woke up at 3am, milled around for a bit and went back to bed.  I wasn’t all that tired on my first full day, went to bed around 1am, woke up around 730 and I was so freaking exhausted.  Yesterday I slept from 11:30am til 1, went to the main school for an appointment, came back around 3, slept from 4-5:30, went back to the main school from 7-8:30 to observe a class, came home again and ate dinner.  I was WAY more tired than I have ever been in my life, as far as I can ever remember.  Went to bed around midnight last night, and I am up at 5.  What the hell?!  Today Ashley is taking me to the clinic to get my HIV test - my SECOND HIV test- and I have to teach tonight in Petergof.  I hope and pray that today’s classes will go better than the first ones.  That was literally torturous, for both the teacher than the taught.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I better try to go back to sleep, or at least rest.  Damn internet won’t let me connect from anywhere right now, so this will have to be posted later in the morning.  Love you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From Right now -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will every morning be like this?  I can’t sleep and can’t sleep so all I can do is think and think and cry and cry.  Why on earth did I do this?  Why would I voluntarily send myself half way around the world for 9 months?  It’s worse than prison right now.  I don’t have a phone, we barely have the internet.  I certainly can’t have visitors and I can‘t go anywhere out of fear.  I am not guaranteed food - I can barely acquire it myself.  I feel like I am going crazy.  When people say ‘homesick’, I usually think - oh, suck it up, what’s so great about home? So not true now.  I could literally throw up I am so upset right now.  Teaching is scary and hard - by the end of today I will have almost doubled my total teaching hours.  Funny thing is, I guess if I get fired I get to come home.  Oh, this worries me so.  I am not supposed to feel like this so soon.  I keep thinking - seriously?  NINE MONTHS?! That’s just so long.  But then I try to rationalize, it isn’t THAT long, relatively.  It is, but it isn’t.  When I am trying to sleep, its an ass long time.  But when I try and think about nine months ago, where I was then…. Oh shit.  That still seems like a long time ago.  February.  I was working at after school, it was cold as hell outside.  That’s when I decided to do this.  It felt like my life was going nowhere, and it was completely dull and boring and I needed excitement.  That’s exactly what my life would be like if I were home right now I guess.  The only reason my life was exciting up until I left was because I was working towards THIS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I can come home if I really NEED to.  But, I would be letting so many people down.  And what would I DO when I got home?  I really tried to prepare myself for being gone for 9 months, and everyone I know accepted it too.  If I didn’t have a good reason for feeling the way that I do now, you should be worried about me.  Please don’t let this freak you out, but, if I get so depressed that I think about doing rash things, I will come home first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just want to hear someone’s voice.  The last person I talked to was my dad, when I was on the plane in Chicago.  On SATURDAY.  So I haven’t heard anyone’s voice in 3 days.  Anyone who actually cares whether or not I am ok.  It doesn’t seem like long, does it?  But, think about it. When you are just walking around in your everyday routine, you talk to your friends, your sig. other, your parents, coworkers.  Most of the people we choose to talk to care about us in some way. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our only major break is two full weeks at Christmas and new years.  I really thought that Christmas would be too soon to come home, plus, I don’t think I will be able to afford the plane ticket, but going the full nine months seems like it could be nine years.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-2063375169133777411?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/2063375169133777411/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=2063375169133777411' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/2063375169133777411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/2063375169133777411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/11/backlog-of-posts.html' title='Backlog of posts'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-4028938631140863519</id><published>2008-11-08T16:33:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-08T16:38:50.417-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I don't like this.</title><content type='html'>This is much harder than I expected. I have probably walked 3 miles pulling 100lbs of luggage and carrying another 30 or so.  Alarm clock didn't go off this morning, woke up half an hour late.  Forgot to print out confirmation sheet - HELLA hassle. Haven't eaten since 6:30 this morning.  Very very tired. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Started crying (and again now) when on the phone with the US Cellular customer service lady after she said that my phone would be canceled as soon as I got off the phone with her.  I was thinking 'no! I am not done yet!  I need to talk to my people.'  But alas, I don't really.  I don't have time.  But, she is canceling it tomorrow anyway, not today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am 24 years old, sitting in an international airport terminal and I can't stop crying.  Sad sad sad.  I will let you all know when I get there.  Love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-4028938631140863519?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/4028938631140863519/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=4028938631140863519' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/4028938631140863519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/4028938631140863519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-dont-like-this.html' title='I don&apos;t like this.'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-7492279910764924802</id><published>2008-11-06T00:43:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T00:53:58.304-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Denial'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Birthday'/><title type='text'>Cross that one of the list</title><content type='html'>So - 'the trip' has seemed far off and dreamlike because of all of the things that were to come before it.  Like - Seattle.  Like - the election.  Like - my birthday.  Fun days, things to look forward to, to put before that long flight to my new home.  Tomorrow, I put a big fat check mark next to the last milestone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*deep breath*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sent out an email update to 33 people yesterday and started getting some real email back.  I will wholly admit that 90% of the reason I sent out the email was to get some sort of communication from 'back home'.  This is happening after 10 days of being gone.  The only way that I will be able to get through this in one piece will be to convince myself that I don't need anyone and that I never did.  THIS IS ONE GIANT LIE THAT I WILL TELL MYSELF TO KEEP MY SANITY.  I promise I love you, but I have to pretend that you don't exist to keep moving forward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unless I can find a balance.  That would be nice.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-7492279910764924802?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/7492279910764924802/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=7492279910764924802' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/7492279910764924802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/7492279910764924802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/11/cross-that-one-of-list.html' title='Cross that one of the list'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-3947111176315631286</id><published>2008-11-04T00:53:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-04T01:00:22.990-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Vote?</title><content type='html'>I guess all I have to say tonight is, please, please vote.  I do care who you vote for, but I care more that you actually vote, regardless of whom you vote for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The question mark in the title of this post is there because almost everyone I know has already voted, so if you read this.... I am preaching to the choir.  But, I guess it's the citizen's duty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;VOTE!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-3947111176315631286?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/3947111176315631286/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=3947111176315631286' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/3947111176315631286'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/3947111176315631286'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/11/vote.html' title='Vote?'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-1356582208244258045</id><published>2008-11-02T20:14:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-02T23:31:24.902-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='church'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Boredom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Blogging'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='usefulness'/><title type='text'>Infantile</title><content type='html'>The structure of my life at the present time is almost exactly like that of an middle school student on summer vacation.  I live with a couple older than me, I have no way to get around, I basically have no responsibilities, no place to be....  It's almost an exact duplication of my life 10 years ago.  I play with the dog (some might call it torture, but we would need to check the definition of that), watch TV, waste time online (this is new, but wasting time sure isn't), and eat way too much.  This situation was depressing for a while, not being a contributing member of society, instead being a semi recluse. But that feeling is wearing off.  Now I just want to lay around with nothing expected of me.  Kind of.  I guess I know this will end quite abruptly on Saturday, when I have to be up and out of the house before 7am, to spend 18 hours in transit.  Then, a REAL job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am supposed to be writing up a summary of my two 'break-out sessions' from the leadership conference last month for the evangelism committee at church.  But, I don't want to.  As corny as this sounds, I know that when that's done and submitted, they won't have any use for me anymore.  I will have done my job, and I will be free to go.  Nobody will have a reason to talk to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am kind of kidding, but I wasn't a couple of hours ago when I was actually working on the paper and started this post.  It's possible though.  I'm not really sure &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;why&lt;/span&gt; they want to talk to me anyway...  WAIT.  Why do you want to talk to me/read this post?  Oh geez.  I gotta stop.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-1356582208244258045?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/1356582208244258045/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=1356582208244258045' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/1356582208244258045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/1356582208244258045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/11/infantile.html' title='Infantile'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-7995395465453332780</id><published>2008-11-01T23:25:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-01T23:39:00.133-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Playlist'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Song Lyrics'/><title type='text'>Extraordinary Machine - Fiona Apple</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;This is supposed to be an encouraging song.  I won't try to interpret what she is trying to say exactly, cause I am sure I will get it all messed up.  So.. on the surface it tells me that I am stronger than I think, and that I don't need anyone's help. And I totally am the baby of the family, this first stanza seems to fit my life pretty well, everybody watching over me and telling me that I am doing things the wrong way, somehow.  This song is how I would LIKE to feel. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0); font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;I am the baby of the family, it happens, so&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;Everybody cares and wears the sheeps' clothes while they chaperone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;Curious, you looking down your nose at me, while you appease&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;Courteous, to try and help, but let me set your mind at ease&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0); font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0); font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt;If there was a better way to go then it would find me&lt;br /&gt;I can't help it, the road just rolls out behind me&lt;br /&gt;Be kind to me, or treat me mean&lt;br /&gt;I'll make the most of it, I'm an extraordinary machine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0); font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Do I so worry you, you need to hurry to my side?&lt;br /&gt;It's very kind&lt;br /&gt;But it's to no avail; I don't want the bail&lt;br /&gt;I promise you, everything will be just fine&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-7995395465453332780?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/7995395465453332780/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=7995395465453332780' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/7995395465453332780'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/7995395465453332780'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/11/extraordinary-machine-fiona-apple.html' title='Extraordinary Machine - Fiona Apple'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-1739789538279232999</id><published>2008-11-01T02:40:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-01T02:55:34.910-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Music'/><title type='text'>Because I might be masochistic</title><content type='html'>So, I know I have written about this before, but, I really enjoy accentuating or enticing a mood with music.  Basically, I can make myself feel really crappy, really quickly.  Or, to put it another way, music can force me to confront how I truly feel quite easily.  I just subject myself to it to get out of the denial loop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is my playlist for this 'trip', which anchors me in emotion and reminds me exactly what I am doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adventures in Solitude - The New Pornographers&lt;br /&gt;All Will Be Well - The Gabe Dixon Band&lt;br /&gt;Brand New Colony - The Postal Service&lt;br /&gt;Capturing Moods - Rilo Kiley&lt;br /&gt;Chicago - Sufjan Stevens&lt;br /&gt;The Circle Game - Joni Mitchell&lt;br /&gt;Do You Realize? - The Flaming Lips&lt;br /&gt;Everything Reminds Me of Her - Elliot Smith&lt;br /&gt;Extraordinary Machine - Fiona Apple&lt;br /&gt;Far From Home - The Gabe Dixon Band&lt;br /&gt;Fearless - Gerald Collier&lt;br /&gt;Forever My Friend - Ray LaMontagne&lt;br /&gt;Here For Now - Ani DiFranco&lt;br /&gt;High and Dry - Radiohead&lt;br /&gt;Keep it Together - Guster&lt;br /&gt;Melt Your Heart - Jenny Lewis and the Watson Twins&lt;br /&gt;Not As We - Alanis Morissette&lt;br /&gt;Sing - The Carpenters&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own - U2&lt;br /&gt;Urge For Going - Joni Mitchell&lt;br /&gt;Wisconsin - Bon Iver&lt;br /&gt;With Arms Outstretched - Rilo Kiley&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of these songs are supposed to make me feel bad about leaving things behind, some of them are supposed to encourage me, some (like the U2 song) make me scared.  I might post some of the lyrics from these songs and try to explain what they mean to me, but, not tonight!  Hope everyone had a Happy Halloween!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-1739789538279232999?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/1739789538279232999/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=1739789538279232999' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/1739789538279232999'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/1739789538279232999'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/11/because-i-might-be-masochistic.html' title='Because I might be masochistic'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-725861221934837595</id><published>2008-10-28T00:21:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-28T01:09:45.323-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tears at 30,000 ft.</title><content type='html'>I do my best grieving on airplanes.  There's something about hiding my face against the window and completely losing it, knowing the person next to you, has no social obligation &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;whatsoever&lt;/span&gt; to ask you the nature of your tears.  Even more so, that person has a social obligation to REFRAIN from asking questions or trying to help.  It's freeing, really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My only goal is to remain silent.  No vocal sobs, sniffling, gasping, nothing to make me seem hysterical.  Just a girl with a good reason to be sad.  My scarf works quite nicely as a mask and a medium to sop up the tears.  If I cover my face and press my eyes, it looks like I am just thinking hard or showing that I am tired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This trip, I deviated from my usual plan.  It started as usual.  I turned, I hid, I cried.  But I guess this time I needed some sort of human connection or just general comfort.  So... my seatmate wasn't under the same social obligations... he was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;engaged&lt;/span&gt; by the girl next to him.  And bless him, he was wonderful...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me - trying to recover: 'Is Denver your last stop?'&lt;br /&gt;Guy - 'yep.  It's my home.  What about you?'  (aw - pretending he didn't notice!)&lt;br /&gt;I shake my head - 'nope', try not to start crying again&lt;br /&gt;G - 'where are you headed?'&lt;br /&gt;M, still choked up - 'I-I'm moving to Russia....'&lt;br /&gt;G - 'wow, that's great!  Have you lived overseas before?  Are you excited?'&lt;br /&gt;M, unable to talk, so I shrug&lt;br /&gt;G - 'mixed, huh?  Yeah, that's hard.'&lt;br /&gt;     (pause)&lt;br /&gt;      'Did you volunteer for it or will you go to prison if you don't show up?'&lt;br /&gt;I laugh a little&lt;br /&gt;G - 'Well, I have lived all over the world.  Easy places, though, like London and Paris'&lt;br /&gt;I nod.&lt;br /&gt;G - 'I think it's excellent.  More people need to do things like that.  You'll love yourself for it'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Calmed down.  Decided to blog about this wonderful middle aged man seated next to me.  So, I used my napkin and his pen to write the first draft of this post.  When we landed in Denver, the lady sitting in front of me turned around and handed me a green pen.  I said it wasn't mine (I thought she found it on the floor and assumed it was mine), but she said that she knew, but that she thought I should have it because I might not be sitting next to someone so helpful next time.  Sometimes you can find humanity in a big metal capsule high in the sky.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-725861221934837595?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/725861221934837595/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=725861221934837595' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/725861221934837595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/725861221934837595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/10/tears-at-30000-ft.html' title='Tears at 30,000 ft.'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-4930247159853011906</id><published>2008-10-26T13:06:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-26T13:24:26.338-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='crying.'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='church'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='leaving'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sad'/><title type='text'>It's tough.</title><content type='html'>Last night was pretty weird. In my old apartment, with my old roommates, in a totally different place in my life. Half freaking out, half bored out of my mind, tired, but can't sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got about an hour of sleep last night, and during that short nap, I dreamt that I overslept until 2:30 this afternoon.  THAT was not a good feeling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Church this morning was good, and sad.  I've gotten everything I could need or everything that I could be given to make it easier.  I just need to GO now.  During the 'joys and concerns' time, I was called up to the front of the sanctuary and Amanda gave me a gift that was perfect.  A little black rock, symbolizing... things.  She was crying and I was trying not to cry and so I couldn't really listen too well.  Something about getting food and water from hitting a rock with a staff?  And about Paul being the rock and how I am strong like a rock.  Basically it's a worry stone from Amanda's office - that explanation would have been enough for me, probably.  Something like this rock is exactly what I wanted.  Something to keep with me, something physically FROM the church, the added symbolism was just icing.  (HEY-A, if you read this, ya wanna send me via email the meaning behind the rock?  I would appreciate it.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the service I got to say goodbye for real.  I have my card... probably should have waited till I left to let her open it, but I am so easily coerced... (where's the 'like a rock' symbolism now?!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really, being away from such a supportive and fun environment is going to be a challenge in itself.  In the spring, when I was going to Trinity, but I wasn't really involved as heavily as I am now...er...was in the last month or so, I would go to church on Sunday, and by Wednesday I would start counting down to Sunday, whenI would get to go back.  It was hard to go a week away, before I even knew many people.  I am going to be away about the same amount of time that I have been going to Trinity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WELL, it's going to be a long week till next 'Sunday'...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-4930247159853011906?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/4930247159853011906/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=4930247159853011906' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/4930247159853011906'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/4930247159853011906'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/10/its-tough.html' title='It&apos;s tough.'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-1319932978636147520</id><published>2008-10-24T14:25:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-24T14:43:14.032-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My mom and Me</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SQIlGUbmz9I/AAAAAAAAG0U/L467frAw-xA/s1600-h/Going+away+%232+007.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SQIlGUbmz9I/AAAAAAAAG0U/L467frAw-xA/s400/Going+away+%232+007.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260808105216102354" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't mess with us.  We'll lay you down.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-1319932978636147520?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/1319932978636147520/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=1319932978636147520' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/1319932978636147520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/1319932978636147520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/10/my-mom-and-me.html' title='My mom and Me'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SQIlGUbmz9I/AAAAAAAAG0U/L467frAw-xA/s72-c/Going+away+%232+007.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-9064436555850936814</id><published>2008-10-24T14:20:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-24T14:24:06.409-05:00</updated><title type='text'>From the 'Dead Zone'</title><content type='html'>That's what I am calling my mom's house, since it doesn't have internet.  I wrote this last night:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"&gt;&lt;meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"&gt;&lt;meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 12"&gt;&lt;meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 12"&gt;&lt;link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CJen%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"&gt;&lt;link rel="themeData" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CJen%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx"&gt;&lt;link rel="colorSchemeMapping" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CJen%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_colorschememapping.xml"&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:worddocument&gt;   &lt;w:view&gt;Normal&lt;/w:View&gt;   &lt;w:zoom&gt;0&lt;/w:Zoom&gt;   &lt;w:trackmoves/&gt;   &lt;w:trackformatting/&gt;   &lt;w:punctuationkerning/&gt;   &lt;w:validateagainstschemas/&gt;   &lt;w:saveifxmlinvalid&gt;false&lt;/w:SaveIfXMLInvalid&gt;   &lt;w:ignoremixedcontent&gt;false&lt;/w:IgnoreMixedContent&gt; 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&lt;!--  /* Font Definitions */  @font-face 	{font-family:Wingdings; 	panose-1:5 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0; 	mso-font-charset:2; 	mso-generic-font-family:auto; 	mso-font-pitch:variable; 	mso-font-signature:0 268435456 0 0 -2147483648 0;} @font-face 	{font-family:"Cambria Math"; 	panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; 	mso-font-charset:1; 	mso-generic-font-family:roman; 	mso-font-format:other; 	mso-font-pitch:variable; 	mso-font-signature:0 0 0 0 0 0;} @font-face 	{font-family:Calibri; 	panose-1:2 15 5 2 2 2 4 3 2 4; 	mso-font-charset:0; 	mso-generic-font-family:swiss; 	mso-font-pitch:variable; 	mso-font-signature:-1610611985 1073750139 0 0 159 0;}  /* Style Definitions */  p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal 	{mso-style-unhide:no; 	mso-style-qformat:yes; 	mso-style-parent:""; 	margin:0in; 	margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:11.0pt; 	font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; 	mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; 	mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; 	mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; 	mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; 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	mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:11.0pt; 	font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; 	mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; 	mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; 	mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; 	mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; 	mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Blog for 10/23/08&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;What I should be doing right now: packing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;What I’ve spent the last 2 hours doing: editing photos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;A lot less productive, but so much more fun.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;It’s a great task to focus on… let me make things look better, without changing the reality right in front of me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Everyone everyone is sick.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;My mom has a fever and is ‘physically ill’, as was my dad today, and my aunt, who lives next door, was sick yesterday and the day before.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;So – I made my mom chicken soup. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;J&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Aunt Dede helped (and by helped, I mean she did probably 70% of the work, especially the gross stuff, like cutting apart the chicken).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I am TERRIFIED of getting sick right now, so I am holed up in my room in the basement, far away from my ailing mother.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;That sounds mean, doesn’t it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Quarantining myself, when I could be keeping my mom company.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;It would be just awful if I got that sick tomorrow, or Saturday or, gasp! Sunday.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I need the goodbye hugs on Sunday – if I were too sick to be around people, I might just….die.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Truthfully, I am &lt;i style=""&gt;dreading&lt;/i&gt; Sunday.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;It’s harder to say goodbye over and over.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Right now it feels like I have already left, that I have already said goodbye, but I haven’t.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I have to face everyone again, be strong and say goodbye for real…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Which, I actually DO want to do, I HAVE to do it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I just know it’s going to be the hardest part.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;For my own sake, I better face up to the reality that I am leaving, and this will be the last I see of these people that I care so deeply about.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I want to feel the emotion that goes with that and let them know how much they mean to me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;This is why I purposely didn’t invite my parents to church on Sunday.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I almost can’t physically cry in front of my parents.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I am not sure exactly why – maybe I am too committed to convincing them that I am not their little baby, that I am a strong, independent woman. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;What a show.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I love my new toy – the Nikon D80.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I’ve gotten to play with it a little bit at church and today making soup.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;He (the camera) will probably be my bestest friend in Russia.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;We’ll go everywhere together.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Maybe you will get to see what we do together; hopefully it will be a beautiful relationship.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Ok, back to reality.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Packing seems incredibly daunting right now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I just need a non sick person to come downstairs and hug me and tell me that I can do it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Not because I think I can’t-I am an amazing packer- just because it would be helpful, emotionally.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Plus, I know those hugs are numbered. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-9064436555850936814?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/9064436555850936814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=9064436555850936814' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/9064436555850936814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/9064436555850936814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/10/from-dead-zone.html' title='From the &apos;Dead Zone&apos;'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-1307626217843613894</id><published>2008-10-22T10:32:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-22T10:32:49.066-05:00</updated><title type='text'>YES</title><content type='html'>Totally found my happy place.  Ready to launch.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-1307626217843613894?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/1307626217843613894/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=1307626217843613894' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/1307626217843613894'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/1307626217843613894'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/10/yes.html' title='YES'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-8098479539864983463</id><published>2008-10-21T23:18:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-22T00:05:36.465-05:00</updated><title type='text'>You mean... it's real?</title><content type='html'>I cannot find the excitement buried somewhere deep inside of me.  I can't!  I am like the 5 year old dreading her first day of Kindergarten.  'what if all the kids are mean?', 'what if I miss the bus?', 'what if I can't find my classroom?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember how I said I would really crank up the denial machine?  Yeah.  Totally worked, and now I am waking up to the fact that I am fucking leaving everything in 5 days.  The choice must be made... try to keep the denial up, or face the music and try not to freak out...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I know SO FREAKING little about what is going to happen, I envision a blank.  I mean, I see the city of St. Petersburg (what little I have seen in pictures), but there is nobody there.  There might as well be nobody there right now, cause I don't know a single soul in about a 3,000 mile radius.  I am personable, I will talk to people, I can make friends.  It's just terrifying to think that I have to do it all on my own.  I could fall through the cracks.  It's amazing that everyone believes I can do this...I need to find that faith in myself somewhere before I leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have done this before - I was so convinced that I would hate Madison.  I love love love Madison now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, maybe this is doable.  These next three days are going to be ultra challenging for me though, because I won't have anything to do.  Sit at home.  No internet.  No friends.  Why in God's name did I agree to come home?  Sigh.  I have pockets to make, I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saving my tears for Sunday....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-8098479539864983463?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/8098479539864983463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=8098479539864983463' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/8098479539864983463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/8098479539864983463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/10/you-mean-its-real.html' title='You mean... it&apos;s real?'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-4690281503414774656</id><published>2008-10-21T08:18:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-21T08:19:28.471-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's getting creepy</title><content type='html'>I really don't put much faith in these things, but lately my horoscope has been eerily on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You may be in a state of high anticipation, for the Sun's supportive sextile to intense Pluto can put your feelings on edge. You have been on a magical mystery tour, but now it's time to settle down and make crucial decisions about your path ahead. But you cannot push the process any faster than it's going, so set your frustrations aside and connect with others while you can."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-4690281503414774656?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/4690281503414774656/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=4690281503414774656' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/4690281503414774656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/4690281503414774656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/10/its-getting-creepy.html' title='It&apos;s getting creepy'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-532148032072081658</id><published>2008-10-18T23:32:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-18T23:35:08.020-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kansas City'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='church'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='slide show'/><title type='text'>On a lighter note...</title><content type='html'>The slide show I will be presenting during worship tomorrow about our trip to Church of the Resurrection's Leadership Institute in Kansas City.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm pretty proud of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt; &lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ckqFIooca20"&gt; &lt;/param&gt; &lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ckqFIooca20" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;  &lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-532148032072081658?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/532148032072081658/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=532148032072081658' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/532148032072081658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/532148032072081658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/10/on-lighter-note.html' title='On a lighter note...'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-2278470516627515116</id><published>2008-10-18T19:48:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-18T21:46:21.433-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='relationships'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fear'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='St. Petersburg'/><title type='text'>Rationalizing Fear</title><content type='html'>After my going away party and reading all of my friends' feelings about me and how proud they are of me, after listening to countless people call me gutsy, bold and strong (some people implying that I am pretty stupid), and after watching the surprised looks on people's faces when I tell them of my plans - I feel like I need to set some things straight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First of all, I am &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;scared shitless.&lt;/span&gt;  That's right.  You probably already knew that after reading yesterday's post, but, unless I have put you through the lovely task of calming me down during one of my many 'crazy times' (we'll call them), you don't know what's really going on.  Maybe you don't want to know, but you are here for a reason, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are so many reasons to be um... apprehensive about this trip, adventure, move, new job, change - whatever you want to call it.  The obvious includes health, safety, missing people, challenge, all of which would happen if I moved to Detroit to teach English.  Normal fears.  Then there's the issue that where I am moving isn't Detroit.  It's RUSSIA.  So we add some distance.  Also, I don't speak Russian, so we add a language barrier.  For good measure, let's add in some political unrest, shall we?  Good.  Now we have our base.  Gutsy/Ballsy, strong people can handle all of this.  This is where my fears are believed to end.  It's just not true. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a connector, an overshare -er, I thrive on intimacy with the people who are important to me.  I am super sensitive and I think and think and overthink everything that happens around me.  Don't think you can lie to me or subtly mock me or my friends, I can tell what you mean.  I define myself BY these relationships.  When it comes to loyalty or devotion or support...my people get everything.  They deserve everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So.  Nearly everything that means something to me is going to be 4560 miles away from where I am.  Part of what defines me will be half way around the world. (ok, not true, I just did some research.  At 42 degrees north, the earth is 18,000 miles around) While logic and emotion &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;clearly&lt;/span&gt; don't coincide often, I logically know that it is possible and probable that I will forge these bonds in St. Petersburg.  And then what? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lets say I make some great friends.  YAY!  Now it's August 2009 - goodbye great friends!  I could never see them again, I am heartbroken.  I come back to Madison.  I cannot expect to find the relationships that I left will be unscathed (thanks Alanis - its a good word).  Now I have some weakened relationships in WI, and some fledgling relationships spread throughout the world.  Does this put me in a better place then when I left?  Nobody knows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luckily for you all, I am in a good, stable place tonight.  I can hypothesize to the positive right now.  There are some good things that can come out of this (lets hope so, or those people calling me stupid are totally right).  I could make some really great friends in SP (YAY) and realize that I can maintain long distance friendships and not give them so much of me.  I could come home with a relationship.  I could come home and realize that my friendships don't needs as much TLC and energy and work as I thought.  They could be stronger than I am giving them credit for.  Most profoundly, I could realize that I don't need my relationships to define me.  I can define myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At present, I am afraid of being alone forever.  The very best outcome of this adventure would be me getting over that in some way.  I need to learn to live for myself and trust myself.  I am not there right now, but I think this might be the hardest and scariest lesson I am about to learn.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-2278470516627515116?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/2278470516627515116/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=2278470516627515116' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/2278470516627515116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/2278470516627515116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/10/rationalizing-fear.html' title='Rationalizing Fear'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-8387255641002077889</id><published>2008-10-17T23:19:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-17T23:24:33.965-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Scary feelings.'/><title type='text'>Change</title><content type='html'>I think this is what growing feels like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All weird and uncomfortable, but full of hope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stretching possibilities and understanding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Muscles tear, to be built again, stronger and faster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People jump, fearful, to learn to fly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-8387255641002077889?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/8387255641002077889/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=8387255641002077889' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/8387255641002077889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/8387255641002077889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/10/change.html' title='Change'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-3052450744593756649</id><published>2008-10-17T01:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-17T01:09:47.455-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes they are so right.</title><content type='html'>Scorpio's Horoscope today:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Before things settle down into a more regular pattern, you may find yourself getting exhausted trying to keep up with everything. Although you are able to do what's expected, your life could feel overly complicated now. Instead of attempting to push back toward the basics, resign yourself to staying in touch with your complex life until it starts to reintegrate and simplify."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-3052450744593756649?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/3052450744593756649/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=3052450744593756649' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/3052450744593756649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/3052450744593756649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/10/sometimes-they-are-so-right.html' title='Sometimes they are so right.'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-7404819183390701301</id><published>2008-10-14T08:56:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-14T09:10:38.534-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Blessed</title><content type='html'>If there was another word that didn't specifically denote God or religion I would use it.  Maybe 'lucky'?  The amount of love and support that has been showered on me lately is amazing.  Last night I got all that I could ask for from someone who, whether they know it or not, holds the most influential position in my life right now.  Absolutely invaluable travel advice, encouragement, laughter and a little bit of alcohol was exchanged. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't have imagined a more perfect way to relieve some of my fear, guilt and anxiety about this trip.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-7404819183390701301?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/7404819183390701301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=7404819183390701301' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/7404819183390701301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/7404819183390701301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/10/blessed.html' title='Blessed'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-1592977523974594192</id><published>2008-10-12T14:43:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-12T14:49:31.075-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='church replacement'/><title type='text'>Replacement</title><content type='html'>Today, I met the person who seems as though she will take my place at church.  Today was her first day at Trinity.  She lives a couple of blocks away and walks.  She's a senior @ UW, majoring in Elementary Ed.  Baptized Methodist, parents divorced, generally the same history as me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is coming, I am going.  :(  She better be nice, cause I'll be back (Hi Arnold!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-1592977523974594192?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/1592977523974594192/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=1592977523974594192' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/1592977523974594192'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/1592977523974594192'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/10/replacement.html' title='Replacement'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-4672765492819758287</id><published>2008-10-10T23:07:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-10T23:29:59.491-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='torture'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='coat'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='excitement'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='meeting'/><title type='text'>Ten Ten Eight</title><content type='html'>If you were to go back and look over my past posts (who would?), you would notice that roughly 75% of them center on how boring my job is or how much I hate it.  Sad, but true.  That's what this post was going to be about too, because that aspect of my life hasn't changed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something new was added to the mix this morning.  Conservative talk radio.  Let's just say that boxing up milk chocolate peanut clusters is a lot more interesting with high blood pressure and adrenaline.  Basically, I was tortured for a couple of hours, but I have come out a stronger woman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the torture, I replayed some of my favorite moments from the meeting last night... Actually made me smile and make other faces to myself - I swear if someone saw me they would have been able to tell exactly what was going on in my mind.  I was having a conversation in my head, and, as crazy as that sounds, it was probably even crazier in real life.  After the imaginary, mind conversation to block out the raving lunatics on the radio, I started to realize that I am EXCITED for the big move!  Not &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;scared&lt;/span&gt;, not &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;dreading,&lt;/span&gt; not &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ohmygodiamgoingtodie.&lt;/span&gt;  I am excited!  This, my friends (hi McCain!), is a good thing (hi Martha!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you heard?  I am moving to Russia.  RUSSIA.  Can you think of a better time for me to splurge on a winter coat?  Ok, besides Antarctica.  Didn't think so.  So, at the North Face store, I tried on some coats, and fell in love with one.  THEN I found it on REI.com - I am a member, gimme the dividend!  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;THEN&lt;/span&gt; I saw that REI.com was having a fall sale - 20% off any regular priced item!  20% doesn't sound like much.  Until...until the item you want to purchase is $300.  Then, $60 is a lot.  Ok, enough chit chat about how much it was.  I know you can't wait to see it.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SPArUgQHLEI/AAAAAAAAGjI/Oli78w0i8cc/s1600-h/76f79e17-31be-439e-ac35-f264df61984a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SPArUgQHLEI/AAAAAAAAGjI/Oli78w0i8cc/s400/76f79e17-31be-439e-ac35-f264df61984a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255748396396260418" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I will admit, it isn't that much to look at.  But it is WARM!  And it looks better on a body than laying down like this one.  AND... the fake fur comes off the hood, which is good because I don't know how I feel about it.  Tell me how YOU feel about it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-4672765492819758287?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/4672765492819758287/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=4672765492819758287' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/4672765492819758287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/4672765492819758287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/10/ten-ten-eight.html' title='Ten Ten Eight'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SPArUgQHLEI/AAAAAAAAGjI/Oli78w0i8cc/s72-c/76f79e17-31be-439e-ac35-f264df61984a.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-4690476738953931550</id><published>2008-10-08T09:23:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-08T09:34:54.221-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><title type='text'>Goats,eggs, boobs, pillows</title><content type='html'>Last night I had a dream about:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Visiting a petting zoo where the goats charged and rammed me with their horns.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My 18yo niece dropped a big carton of eggs, the force of which actually got egg on my shirt.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Changing in a bathroom with no lock and a random guy catching me topless.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Feeling lost and scared in a middle eastern-esque styled hair salon.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt; I am guessing this is at least partially due to my drinking over a bottle of wine in 90 minutes while watching a couple of powerful men restrain themselves from killing each other in a small area suspiciously resembling a fighting ring surrounded by 'real Americans'.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-4690476738953931550?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/4690476738953931550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=4690476738953931550' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/4690476738953931550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/4690476738953931550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/10/goatseggs-boobs-pillows.html' title='Goats,eggs, boobs, pillows'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-5402081980122277974</id><published>2008-10-05T22:16:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-06T22:39:55.093-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='decisions'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rollercoaster mood'/><title type='text'>I wanna ride, the rollercoster, baby baby...</title><content type='html'>Yesterday afternoon my mood dropped to epic lows.  It wasn't just sadness, no, it was irritability, frustration, pent up anxiety, exhaustion, and a general feeling of being overwhelmed.  Maybe it was the 9 hours spent in the tiny backseat of a minivan driving through America's heartland with six people.  Maybe it's because I don't have as much control over my life as I once did and I can't imagine AT ALL what my life will look like tomorrow, next week or next month, say nothing about next year.  Coming to terms with my decision has been harder than I thought it would be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I started MTTP in July, I was more ready to move than I am now.  Everyone had moved away.  All I did was go to class and come home or go out with MTTP people who I knew from the get go were leaving in a set amount of time, so I didn't get too attached to them.  I was running down the road to my future with blinders on, giddy with the possibilities.  Since then, I have reconnected with people, become severly attached to those people, places, ideas, events.  Besides having a job that I dread going to and not having a guy in my life, I am doing so well.  And those two downsides are the standard, the norm, so I try not to tally those in the final score anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning was the U2 Eucharist at church.  Basically that means that the service was comprised of U2 songs, a sermon and communion.  It was very very good.  I mean, Trinity isn't the most 'up to speed' church out there (I know that for certian now, after seeing the church in Kansas City), but we try so hard.  We had a great band and vocalists and an amazing pastor today.  That's what matters.  Amanda spoke of when she and her husband lived in Guatamala for a year and how she got sick from the water after a couple months and when she went to the doctor, she found out she was pregnant so she couldn't take any of the medication. She tied this in to the 'one campaign' by showing us the privalige we all have.  She knew that because she was a US citizen, she could leave at any time and recieve the best medical care in the world.  Because she is who she is, she stuck it out and stayed to finish serving, but returned to the US to have her son, Zane.  During the offeratory, Julie (choir director) sang "Yahweh", with Bill (guy who went on the roadtrip this week) accompaning on guitar and back up vocals.  I lost it.  I just started crying because the song was so pretty and I am generally on the verge of tears everyday now anyway.  This marks the VERY first time I cried in church, during a service that wasn't for someone's death.   After the service, I got great hugs from people I really love, was encouraged by people's advice and sincere well wishes for my future and I felt goooood about life.  I was secure in my decision, confident that I could make it, ready to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now, I am riding out a trough in mood and confidence again.  I swear it comes with the setting of the sun (and lack of communication via internet, phone or in person).  Going to bed early might help, but I just distract myself until the wee hours of the morning when I have no choice but to sleep.  Otherwise I get myself worked up and I make rash decisions.  Those are nothing but trouble.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have promised myself that I WILL NOT start missing people before I leave.  I always do that, and then when I leave I am already over it.  But!  Then I wasted all that time with the people that I was already mourning, being a dumb ass and not enjoying myself.  So now, I am going to put my best denial skills to work, and just plow forward with my horse blinders on.  I will save the ugly cry for the strangers sharing my 18 hours of flying.  At least I have goals, right?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-5402081980122277974?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/5402081980122277974/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=5402081980122277974' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/5402081980122277974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/5402081980122277974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/10/i-wanna-ride-rollercoster-baby-baby.html' title='I wanna ride, the rollercoster, baby baby...'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-3695197413443769824</id><published>2008-10-04T23:20:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-04T23:27:50.709-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kansas City'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='COR'/><title type='text'>Kansas City</title><content type='html'>A few hours ago the small group of TUMC members and staff returned from Kansas City.  The leadership institute we attended there was pretty cool.  Mostly it was intimidating, scary and made me feel very uneducated in the relevant subjects.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We met at church at 6am (6AM!), and it was dark and cold.  8.5 hours later, we were in KC, touring the largest church I have ever been in.  That night I had a panic attack in the sanctuary - it was so large, and they turned the lights almost all the way off, so the room started flipping.  Sad. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I gathered some relevant information for Trinity and overall I had a good time.  Amanda, Bill and Tina are so great... great great people.  They are crazy and fun, intelligent and inspiring.  Why they want me around.... Now that's the Great Mystery.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-3695197413443769824?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/3695197413443769824/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=3695197413443769824' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/3695197413443769824'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/3695197413443769824'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/10/kansas-city.html' title='Kansas City'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-3168381228396669753</id><published>2008-09-30T08:15:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-30T08:17:49.048-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sesame Street'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Palin'/><title type='text'>Sign of the times</title><content type='html'>Flipping through channels this morning, I come to Sesame Street..... and Tina Fey.  But, unfortunately my first thought was 'Why is Sarah Palin talking to muppets?!'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-3168381228396669753?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/3168381228396669753/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=3168381228396669753' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/3168381228396669753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/3168381228396669753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/09/sign-of-times.html' title='Sign of the times'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-5940529523179053862</id><published>2008-09-29T21:59:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-29T22:07:15.400-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ignorant Family'/><title type='text'>Outstanding</title><content type='html'>@ Family's house on Sunday afternoon, fam playing cards, I am watching/eating/telling stories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt; (to Aunt Dede/Mom/they might as well be the same person): 'I am going to see if I can go to the Obama rally in La Crosse on Wednesday.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Aunt F:&lt;/span&gt; 'You want to actually &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;SEE&lt;/span&gt; that black guy?!'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt; 'Yep.  And I am voting for him.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Aunt F:&lt;/span&gt; 'I would never vote for him.  Nobody knows nothing about him.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt; Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Same place, hours later, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;different &lt;/span&gt;aunt:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Aunt L&lt;/span&gt;: 'So you are moving to Russia, huh?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt; 'Yep.  St. Petersburg.  It's really far north, right by Finland'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Aunt L:&lt;/span&gt; 'So it's right above Africa then?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt; 'No.'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-5940529523179053862?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/5940529523179053862/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=5940529523179053862' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/5940529523179053862'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/5940529523179053862'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/09/outstanding.html' title='Outstanding'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-9026011778571762785</id><published>2008-09-27T18:50:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-27T18:59:16.218-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Etsy eek!</title><content type='html'>I have been having great luck finding amazing things on Etsy.com lately.  Great gifts and some great things for myself as well.  The best thing I have found so far was at It's All About the Print on Etsy.  The artist creates these really really fun pendants out of prints and scrabble tiles.  I recently bought three as gifts for my two neices and my friend (who is also the choir director at church).&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SN7H-0nc7pI/AAAAAAAAGYk/Ve5IP5hVirE/s1600-h/Late+Sept+08+018.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SN7H-0nc7pI/AAAAAAAAGYk/Ve5IP5hVirE/s400/Late+Sept+08+018.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250854097650511506" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  Besides the music/bird one, I had a REALLY hard time picking these three out - I had about 30 favorites.  Go and check her shop out &lt;a href="http://http://www.etsy.com/shop.php?user_id=5835103"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-9026011778571762785?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/9026011778571762785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=9026011778571762785' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/9026011778571762785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/9026011778571762785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/09/etsy-eek.html' title='Etsy eek!'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SN7H-0nc7pI/AAAAAAAAGYk/Ve5IP5hVirE/s72-c/Late+Sept+08+018.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-3383493884266894222</id><published>2008-09-27T13:35:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-27T13:38:22.955-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I like CAKE!</title><content type='html'>I just read a post over at 'Stephanie Says' about a mini cake you make in a coffee mug in the microwave in 3 minutes.  This, of course, is horrible, but awesome.  Here is link: &lt;a href="http://http://stefanie-says.blogspot.com/2008/09/let-them-and-by-them-i-mean-you-eat.html"&gt;Stephanie Says&lt;/a&gt;. Here is the recipe:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1 Coffee Mug&lt;br /&gt;4 tablespoons plain flour&lt;br /&gt;4 tablespoons sugar&lt;br /&gt;2 tablespoons baking cocoa&lt;br /&gt;1 egg&lt;br /&gt;3 tablespoons milk&lt;br /&gt;3 tablespoons oil&lt;br /&gt;3 tablespoons chocolate chips (optional)&lt;br /&gt;Small splash of vanilla&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Add dry ingredients to mug, and mix well with a fork. Add the egg and mix thoroughly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pour in the milk and oil and continue to mix well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Add the chocolate chips (if using) and vanilla, and mix again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Put your mug in the microwave and cook for 3 minutes at 1000 watts. The cake might rise over the top of the mug, but don't be alarmed!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Allow to cool a little, and tip out onto a plate if desired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Also, I have a big toe&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-3383493884266894222?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/3383493884266894222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=3383493884266894222' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/3383493884266894222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/3383493884266894222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/09/i-like-cake.html' title='I like CAKE!'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-6918574140632048992</id><published>2008-09-25T21:39:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-25T22:20:57.041-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='new blog'/><title type='text'>Health: commence</title><content type='html'>Recently I had a small breakdown about my life.  The solution....health and weight loss.  Of course, I have come to this conclusion before, many times.  This time.... I am at my heaviest weight ever.  EV. ER.  This is not good, folks.  Remember when I made weight loss one of my new years resolutions?  Yeah, obviously that didn't happen.  This time I am using the buddy system.  This time I want to blog about my work, and often.  Weight Watchers worked for me because it made me accountable for my eating and exercise.  The downside was the expense, at $10 a week. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the cheaper solution: you all.  I am starting a new blog about my health and fitness, hopefully to make you all berate me about eating cheese curds and to help me through those nasty cravings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The website is still under construction, but if you would like to follow me, come on over to &lt;a href="http://ruffagerunning.wordpress.com"&gt;Ruffage&amp;amp;Running&lt;/a&gt;!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-6918574140632048992?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/6918574140632048992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=6918574140632048992' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/6918574140632048992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/6918574140632048992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/09/health-commence.html' title='Health: commence'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-9072951833377602030</id><published>2008-09-24T20:37:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-24T21:00:32.198-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Montage</title><content type='html'>now: without sound!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I've been up to lately&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SNrr66hC7HI/AAAAAAAAGX8/iZiv4IfI9po/s1600-h/James+J+006.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SNrr66hC7HI/AAAAAAAAGX8/iZiv4IfI9po/s320/James+J+006.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249767713026534514" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cold Storage! Surrounded by thousands of dollars worth of delicious chocolate. (and yes, I used the song to spell delicious.  what?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SNrtBtQ-6rI/AAAAAAAAGYE/bdiS1uBSOpA/s1600-h/James+J+013.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SNrtBtQ-6rI/AAAAAAAAGYE/bdiS1uBSOpA/s320/James+J+013.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249768929240214194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SNruy2HDwVI/AAAAAAAAGYM/S4zke-owWgs/s1600-h/James+J+011.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SNruy2HDwVI/AAAAAAAAGYM/S4zke-owWgs/s320/James+J+011.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249770872939725138" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;March of the gingerbread cookies!  Here they come...I have unloaded &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;thousands&lt;/span&gt; of these tasty little assholes.  About this many:&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SNrvaH4WnTI/AAAAAAAAGYU/DcGgnbn_sng/s1600-h/James+J+003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SNrvaH4WnTI/AAAAAAAAGYU/DcGgnbn_sng/s320/James+J+003.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249771547724782898" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  This is ok for two reasons. 1.  I am making money.  This is the most important reason, by far.  2. When those assholes start to talk back, I just bike their heads off.  And they are tasty.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-9072951833377602030?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/9072951833377602030/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=9072951833377602030' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/9072951833377602030'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/9072951833377602030'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/09/montage.html' title='Montage'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SNrr66hC7HI/AAAAAAAAGX8/iZiv4IfI9po/s72-c/James+J+006.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-22221816688884338</id><published>2008-09-20T19:14:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-20T19:18:42.604-05:00</updated><title type='text'>uh oh.</title><content type='html'>I am trying to tell myself that it is ok that I am staying in for the second night in a row.  With nothing really accomplished today, I am having a hard time justifying my worth.  It's hard not having friends around to cheer for you when things go well.  I know, you all 'yay'ed at me in the comments and through text messages, and that's super great, but I wish there was someone here to share it with. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Absolutely no motivation today....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-22221816688884338?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/22221816688884338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=22221816688884338' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/22221816688884338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/22221816688884338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/09/uh-oh.html' title='uh oh.'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-7976520484015817351</id><published>2008-09-19T09:14:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-19T10:47:36.343-05:00</updated><title type='text'>In case you are interested:</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St._Petersburg"&gt;St. Petersburg&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-7976520484015817351?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/7976520484015817351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=7976520484015817351' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/7976520484015817351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/7976520484015817351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/09/in-case-you-are-interested.html' title='In case you are interested:'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-8598433152999646273</id><published>2008-09-19T09:14:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-19T09:19:20.628-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='JOB'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='St. Petersburg'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Russia'/><title type='text'>NEWS!</title><content type='html'>Yes, that's right.  It requires capitalization and exciting punctuation.  Are you ready?  A quote from the ever longed for email: &lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;Dear Jennifer,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having spoken to Jim Nockels, it is my pleasure to offer you a contract with Language Link, Russia in St. Petersburg/ Petergof.  In witness thereof I have attached a contract for your consideration.  You will note that the Pay Grade offered is 12 or net US $1000 per month.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's right folks!  I could be living in St. Petersburg in (someundeterminedamountoftime) no time!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have an interview with people from South Korea who (if they offer me a job) could pay me 3x that amount.  So... Russia will have to wait for a response for the weekend.  But ST. PETERSBURG?!!  That's like my first choice of everywhere!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-8598433152999646273?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/8598433152999646273/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=8598433152999646273' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/8598433152999646273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/8598433152999646273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/09/news.html' title='NEWS!'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-8788183724181210152</id><published>2008-09-17T21:11:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-18T20:06:35.382-05:00</updated><title type='text'>If you love graphs...</title><content type='html'>You will love this site: http://indexed.blogspot.com/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FBXGhy-QmVw/SNEsuZupHII/AAAAAAAACAY/Vh3m-jP1Qvs/s1600-h/card1788.JPG"&gt;My personal favorite&lt;/a&gt;!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-8788183724181210152?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/8788183724181210152/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=8788183724181210152' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/8788183724181210152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/8788183724181210152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/09/if-you-love-graphs.html' title='If you love graphs...'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-7048143940142682609</id><published>2008-09-17T21:11:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-17T21:23:56.444-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Choir'/><title type='text'>Solo</title><content type='html'>The song that my choir is singing on Sunday is 'The King of Love My Shepard Is" and it begins with a three line solo.  When we began rehearsing tonight, Julie (choir director) asked who would  the solo.  Well, I would &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;like &lt;/span&gt;the solo, but I am not one to jump and say it.  It implies too much about how I feel about my singing voice.  So instead I asked if we could have everyone sing it once so that we remember how it goes.  That went well, but afterwards Julie said, "Jennifer, would you like to do it?", in a voice known as 'you will do this, please'.  So I said yes and now I have my first solo since senior year in High School.  Pretty excited (read: Freaked Out) about it, as I know (hope) my days are numbered in the choir, the church, Madison, the US.  Hope I can give a good showing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-7048143940142682609?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/7048143940142682609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=7048143940142682609' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/7048143940142682609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/7048143940142682609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/09/solo.html' title='Solo'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-3986412157174750869</id><published>2008-09-16T22:15:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-16T22:48:16.970-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A waste of time</title><content type='html'>I cannot take naps.  I cannot go to bed 'early' unless I am violently ill or I didn't sleep at all the night before.  When I am tired in class (when class existed in my life) or at work, a nap sounds the the greatest pastime, something that should be done everyday, by everyone!  I wake up and promise myself that I will go to bed earlier tonight, more sleep is worth it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only problem is that, when the time comes, it seems like such a waste of time.  When you sleep, absolutely nothing gets done.  You don't experience anything, you don't learn anything, nothing is accomplished.  Now, I am not an overachiever or workaholic by any means, but I HATE wasting time.  Even watching TV counts as doing something.  Reading Dooce from beginning to end is productive somehow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the main reason why I hate being hungover.  Not only do you feel like crap FOR A WHOLE DAY, you can't get anything done.  The whole day is wasted.  Really, you might as well opt to die a day sooner, it's about the same.  That would have been an accurate description of Sunday for me, if it weren't for the magical wonders of &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;coffee.&lt;/span&gt;  I had one cup of coffee before choir rehearsal (at 8:45) and it kept me functional (and happy and great!) until noon, exactly when I didn't need it anymore.  Church was excellent - the choir sounded better than usual.  I talked to Amanda afterward about Russia and Kansas City.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Russia - Don't shy away out of fear.  Any place can be dangerous.&lt;br /&gt;On Kansas City - I am still welcome for the leadership institute in October.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am very grateful that I got to talk to her about how &lt;a href="http://teachingmissjen.wordpress.com/2008/09/13/my-favorite-word-statistically/"&gt;frustrated&lt;/a&gt; I am with certain regions of the world and that I got her opinion on things.  This was one interaction that I have had with her (or anyone practically) where I can't look back and berate myself about the stupid things I said or did.  I was really on the downswing of my caffeine high, so I was too tired to be anxious about saying the wrong thing and stuttering over words and cracking jokes.  I just laid it out there.  It was very honest and it felt good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then came the hangover, full force.  By the time I made it home, I was so hungry and tired and cringing with a headache that I couldn't really function anymore.  I found my wallet (!) and called in Chinese food.  Took miracle medicine.  I felt better but was still exhausted.  Got nothing else done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was a wonderful day.  More about that later, if you are lucky.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-3986412157174750869?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/3986412157174750869/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=3986412157174750869' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/3986412157174750869'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/3986412157174750869'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/09/waste-of-time.html' title='A waste of time'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-3409754471066964140</id><published>2008-09-13T20:01:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-13T20:16:28.107-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dance Party'/><title type='text'>To Dance?</title><content type='html'>My ex roommate just called and invited me to a dance party tonight, being thrown by one of her friends I have met a couple of times.  A &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;dance party&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;?!  That sounds like fun.  Too bad I am exhausted from working and vowed that I wouldn't go out tonight because I have been really busy in the last three days, and I have to be up and leaving the house at 8:30 tomorrow morning in shape to sing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I probably will go because I can't logically turn down a chance to be social.  You want me there?!  Ok!  Hopefully I avoid a scene (which I admire from afar, truly) such as &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/fraying/112465906/"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-3409754471066964140?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/3409754471066964140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=3409754471066964140' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/3409754471066964140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/3409754471066964140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/09/to-dance.html' title='To Dance?'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-7578191889718104913</id><published>2008-09-08T11:55:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-08T12:06:51.451-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Alex'/><title type='text'>Alex</title><content type='html'>Meet my new best friend, Alex.  He is a 12 year old Samoyed, who follows me around the apartment constantly, lays at my feet and sometimes sleeps in my room.  Such a sweetie.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SMVZ16kx77I/AAAAAAAAGNo/flHdLmouGrc/s1600-h/Random+Weekend+908+038.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SMVZ16kx77I/AAAAAAAAGNo/flHdLmouGrc/s320/Random+Weekend+908+038.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243696123934273458" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like I said, he follows me constantly.  The problem is, I am not that great at sitting in one place for very long, so he has to get up over and over again to follow me around.  I know that it hurts him to go from lying down to standing and back again.  :(  He is also used to sleeping all day while mom's at work, so I am probably a very tiring friend for him.  I don't think he minds though.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SMVakiH7yeI/AAAAAAAAGNw/7i6PDZ2d0W8/s1600-h/Random+Weekend+908+040.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SMVakiH7yeI/AAAAAAAAGNw/7i6PDZ2d0W8/s320/Random+Weekend+908+040.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243696924824685026" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SMVa5ym7cdI/AAAAAAAAGN4/5vdxfq_pqTQ/s1600-h/Random+Weekend+908+041.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SMVa5ym7cdI/AAAAAAAAGN4/5vdxfq_pqTQ/s320/Random+Weekend+908+041.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243697290026906066" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SMVbZSpvXwI/AAAAAAAAGOA/HHDkRmbh6zs/s1600-h/Random+Weekend+908+044.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SMVbZSpvXwI/AAAAAAAAGOA/HHDkRmbh6zs/s320/Random+Weekend+908+044.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243697831204577026" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-7578191889718104913?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/7578191889718104913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=7578191889718104913' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/7578191889718104913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/7578191889718104913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/09/alex.html' title='Alex'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SMVZ16kx77I/AAAAAAAAGNo/flHdLmouGrc/s72-c/Random+Weekend+908+038.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-4356744623945960839</id><published>2008-09-08T00:57:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-08T00:59:09.572-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's 1am....</title><content type='html'>That means that it is 8am in Poland.  Please email me before I FREAK OUT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also - probably the best Chuck &lt;a href="http://www.dooce.com/archives/daily_photo/12_16_2005.html"&gt;pic&lt;/a&gt; yet&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-4356744623945960839?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/4356744623945960839/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=4356744623945960839' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/4356744623945960839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/4356744623945960839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/09/its-1am.html' title='It&apos;s 1am....'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-8490298752062610649</id><published>2008-09-08T00:13:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-08T00:17:05.504-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Must share</title><content type='html'>So...Never drink Mountain Dew at 10:30.  Or ALWAYS drink Mountain Dew at 10:30, I don't care.  I am giddy as a goose, which might be why I was literally&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; crying&lt;/span&gt; at &lt;a href="http://www.dooce.com/archives/daily/11_21_2005.html"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; Dooce.com post, circa 2005.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am spending HOURS reading Dooce.com from the beginning.  I started in late spring/early summer, and I still have THREE YEARS to go.  Thank God I am unemployed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-8490298752062610649?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/8490298752062610649/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=8490298752062610649' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/8490298752062610649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/8490298752062610649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/09/must-share.html' title='Must share'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-4025134245094651385</id><published>2008-09-07T23:31:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-07T23:43:17.881-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mike from Florida</title><content type='html'>Today I had the anxiety producing experience of not being able to connect to the internet anywhere in the apartment.  So I fled.  The fleeing was planned in advance, so I guess it doesn't count as such.  Anyway.  When I returned to the apartment(after spending 90 minutes at Panera Bread where I freaked out because the stupid power button on my laptop is kaput and I didn't have the remote.  And yes, my laptop has a remote) it STILL wasn't working.  So Roommate called Charter.  Got it fixed up, but not before almost having a verbal war with the Charter lady... it was entertaining.  BUT!  Whilst this was happening, I accidentally put my computer on stand by.  On stand by, the remote doesn't work either, so I was freaking out, thinking that I couldn't shut my computer off, so I would have to wait for the battery to die, and do you know how long that could take on STAND BY?!  Then I remembered that I could take the battery out.  Success!  But, the internet STILL wouldn't love me long time like it should.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I called charter back, and this is where I met my new husband, Mike from Florida.  He had me doing backflips on my computer, all 'run' this and 'ipconfig' that.  Sigh.  I learned that I had only been to the 'good, country' parts of Florida, and that if I had gone further south, all they have are cubans, more cubans and confused white people.  I asked if they had a lot of OLD people, and he responded "Yeah, those are the confused white people".  We had a small spat about who has the worst drivers though, but I think it's just cause we love each other so much - it was a lover's quarrel.  I still maintain that FIBs are the worst, but I could see how hoards of confused old white people in motorized vehicles would be frightening. After 22 minutes we were married AND I was back online.  It was all I ever wanted, and more!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-4025134245094651385?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/4025134245094651385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=4025134245094651385' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/4025134245094651385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/4025134245094651385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/09/mike-from-florida.html' title='Mike from Florida'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-3602072077135133164</id><published>2008-09-06T21:34:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T23:54:27.381-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Door County'/><title type='text'>Door Company, continued.</title><content type='html'>I know you all have been waiting for the rest of the Door County story.  Wait no more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I successfully (that word has THREE instances of double consonants?!) slept in a tent, on the ground, in the wide, wide world three nights in a row.  Please, hold the applause.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being out in the woods with zero artificial entertainment, I began to revert to my childhood.  By the end of the weekend, I was cracking stupid jokes, leaping around, randomly running because I wanted to... and having laughing fits about absolutely nothing with a good friend.  It was like I was 12 again.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't all fun and giggles though.  The first morning was a nightmare.  I woke up, and my first thought was, oh, ow.  Wow, ow.  My back hurt and my uterus was showing signs of revolt in the near future.  This condition worsened considerably throughout the morning, despite arming myself with one Midol.  My uterus laughs in the face of one Midol.  I did alright when I had to walk to where we are served food, at the other end of the trail.  But by the time breakfast was over, I was lying on the ground on my stomach, unable to move or breathe.  When Jack poked my leg with a stick I swear I nearly bit his neck and swallowed his adam's apple whole.  A stern, don't fuck with me voice I said, "No. That is NOT OK.", if I remember correctly.  Nikita and I had to walk back to the tents to do something. Maybe change clothes and get things we needed for the day, I can't even remember.  Note that this walk back is at least half a mile.  Half a mile in total agony.  I know that Nikita was uncomfortable walking with me, I was visibly shaking while walking like half a mile an hour, and threatening to puke every ten steps.  But she was a saint, only mentioning one time that she was glad that I wasn't going to be sea kayaking with her today.  Back at the tents, I took two Advil Liquidgels (Sidenote: I love Advil Liquidgels.  I love them so much, I commonly refer to them as miracle pills) and I used the 'restroom'.  Standing in a small, reeking, spider filled outhouse, I decided that this was probably the worst possible thing that could happen to me.  I couldn't hardly stand, I was surrounded by my worst fear, and I couldn't breathe without wanting to vomit from the smell.  Then, I was angry. I mean, it was totally unnecessary that I feel that way.  And these spiders?  Why do they want to be in the outhouse?  I hate them with the power of 10,000 burning suns (or what was that declaration of hatred, Haute?) Anyway, I survived the trek BACK to the eating area/parking lot area. While waiting for the miracle pills to take effect, writhing on the ground a while longer helped somewhat.  Eventually my lower torso was numbed, and I was free to be a human again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I was in agony - and really throughout the weekend - I kept thinking about my old Hoofer friends and how much I missed them and wanted them to be on this trip.  Andrea and Patsy, this trip would have been even more awesome had you been there.  I knew Patsy would have something to tell me to make me feel better, or, she would have at least prevented Jack from poking me, that asshole. Plus, we used to really have fun together, and I could really see you guys on this trip.  I was probably hallucinating, but if you would have just popped up around a corner, I wouldn't have been surprised in the least.  The feeling was very strong and came quite early in the trip, so many of my memories of the weekend are a little clouded by the memory of a year ago, when we were together and my life was better because of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, so.  That was the 'bad' part of the weekend for me.  The first afternoon (when I rose from the dead) was spent in Sister Bay, at a coffee shop.  I had a little cup of cream of carrot soup and a San Pellingrino.  The SP was NINETY FIVE CENTS.  That is so freaking cheap.  I even told the clerk.  We pay like three times that in Madison.  And it is so good.  The coffee shop had the internet, hence my abbreviated update that weekend.  Then I bought another San Pellingrino.  Andrea (different from above Andrea) and I looked through some pottery and antique shops, then relaxed in the dining area at the park. We also went on one awesome hike, where I learned about the existence of thimbleberries and these really cool pods that explode like confetti poppers when you squeeze them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Day two a group of us biked to Washington Island, biked across Washington Island to School House Beach and then biked back.  We took the ferry obviously. I haven't honed my telekinetic powers to be able to bike on water... yet.  It was fun, but when we got back, my ass bone was so sore, I couldn't hardly sit on it.  Dinner was ready when we arrived, and I am not sure I have ever eaten a brat and drunk a beer so quickly in my life.  I impressed/horrified the whole picnic table with three enormous belches in my 5 minutes of consumption.  That made room for another brat!  Bring it!  I then learned how to play &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kubb"&gt;Kubb&lt;/a&gt; (pronounced 'Coob').  It's totally confusing and awesome at the same time.  Then I drank three mini Mt. Dews in about 30 min and I got extremely hyper.  This was about the time that Nikita and I decided it would be AWESOME if we went back to our tent and tried to take a picture for an eventual READ poster.  You know the ones I am talking about.  Bill Cosby, Oprah, Everymajorcelebrity.  We were like middle school girls, laughing and carrying on while getting ready for bed, brushing our teeth and so forth.  Do you know how hard it is to take a picture of yourself and a friend reading in the dark in a tent?  HARD.  We got one crotch shot, a shot up my shirt, three of just me, and so on.  We finally got an acceptable picture, and I managed to turn it into a poster - like thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Day three we packed up and spent some time at Whitefish Sand Dunes Natural Area. We hiked around.  I got to be a nature hike tour guide.  The stupid pamphlet had at least two typos.  We got to see another side of Lake Michigan.  It was like the adventure! side (if that's even possible), with 3 foot waves, a Dangerous! riptide and a rocky shore riddled with sea caves.  Around mid afternoon we packed up and rode home, with a shortish stop in Appleton for some yummmmy pizza.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all, it was a pretty great trip.  I couldn't have asked for much more to round out the end of my Hooferdom.  To really picture the above, click on my picasa web albums link on the sidebar.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-3602072077135133164?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/3602072077135133164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=3602072077135133164' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/3602072077135133164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/3602072077135133164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/09/door-company-continued.html' title='Door Company, continued.'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-4173515421407113106</id><published>2008-09-04T21:46:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-04T21:58:18.999-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Conventions'/><title type='text'>Conventions</title><content type='html'>So... I missed the Democratic National Convention.  Actually I saw about 30 seconds of it before bawling because my dad made some offhanded comment about it and 'those fuckers'...yeah.  I have seen conventions before though, and I am currently watching John McCain speak at the RNC.  I admit that everyone running is quite charismatic.  If we are to blindly agree with whoever is speaking, then great!  Vote for everyone!  But someone is lying, and there is half a country who's buying it.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Conventions freak me out.  The way I see them, from the calm comfort of my living room, they look like meetings of cults.  The close ups of the attendants.  Average looking people absolutely crazed by what someone is saying.  Really?  You are THAT excited?  They all look like brainwashed idiots, on both sides.  Wide eyes, huge smiles, jumping, screaming!  Skeptics must not be allowed in the door.  I guess it wouldn't be as moving to see people squint and golf clap when a nominee makes an iffy statement.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-4173515421407113106?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/4173515421407113106/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=4173515421407113106' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/4173515421407113106'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/4173515421407113106'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/09/conventions.html' title='Conventions'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-4009920440901224774</id><published>2008-09-04T19:07:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-04T19:18:29.165-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gifts'/><title type='text'>It's Coming!</title><content type='html'>I know nobody really wants to hear this, but that doesn't change the fact that Christmas is on it's way.  It must be if election day is only 61 days away.  And it's only 55 degrees outside.  All signs point to winter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To get everyone's minds primed, I found a great great website for gifts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.violet.com"&gt;www.violet.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are a couple more of my favs:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="www.etsy.com"&gt;etsy.com&lt;/a&gt; - All homemade crafts&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://mightygood.com"&gt;mightygoods.com&lt;/a&gt; - A great compilation page of fun stuff!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.buyolympia.com"&gt;buyolympia.com&lt;/a&gt; - Where I got my new planner... Awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry to bring that all up, but I couldn't hold back Violet.com.  I am just too excited about it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-4009920440901224774?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/4009920440901224774/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=4009920440901224774' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/4009920440901224774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/4009920440901224774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/09/its-coming.html' title='It&apos;s Coming!'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-3049992135299002334</id><published>2008-09-04T00:00:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-04T00:02:07.116-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Because I have a problem</title><content type='html'>I bought &lt;a href="http://shop.littleotsu.com/products/little-otsu-annual-vol-2-weekly-planner"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; online today.  My mild obsession with planners is longstanding, just accept it.  That's my motto.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-3049992135299002334?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/3049992135299002334/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=3049992135299002334' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/3049992135299002334'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/3049992135299002334'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/09/because-i-have-problem.html' title='Because I have a problem'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-3651400290639628890</id><published>2008-09-03T23:57:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-03T23:58:52.073-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Q'/><title type='text'>Without the Internet, September 2nd, 2008</title><content type='html'>Visited Q today.  I knew when I began dialing that there was the distinct possibility of the experience being awkward, but I decided to chance it.  Called around noon to see if her family was in town, even though I should have known that they would be since it was the first day of school.  Q would have to work, Emily would have to GO to school.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We chatted about the usual chatty things – the weather, politics (which I will always avoid talking about with everyone.  Including Q.  And you.  Don’t even try it), we shared the new things in our lives.  It wasn’t awkward at all.  Emily gave me a tour of the house and we picked out clothes for her to wear at school the next day.  When I was getting ready to leave, Q shared some very kind words with me.  I had forgotten how happy it used to make me to spend time with Q.  Maybe that’s why I was always around in high school; twice a week at show choir rehearsal and at her house, either babysitting or taking voice lessons.  She seemed genuinely happy that I came over too.  Things went so splendidly, we might meet up at her family’s lake house this weekend or next.  YAY!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-3651400290639628890?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/3651400290639628890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=3651400290639628890' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/3651400290639628890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/3651400290639628890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/09/without-internet-september-2nd-2008.html' title='Without the Internet, September 2nd, 2008'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-5070517271016325894</id><published>2008-09-02T15:16:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-02T16:04:11.102-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Door County'/><title type='text'>Door Co. Wisconsin, USA</title><content type='html'>Three days of perfect weather with good friends, yummy food, and fun activities.  That's the short story.  The long story?  Ok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A fun, entertaining 4 hour drive to Door Co with Doug and Nikita.  We arrived at Newport State Park in the dark at about 10 pm.  The sky was BEAUTIFUL.  I hadn't been away from Madison for a while - too long - to remember ever seeing so many stars.  The night sky was sparkling - like glitter, I tell you!  And then I looked down, and realized that the stars were all that were visible.  I couldn't see my hand in front of my face, and I had forgotten my headlamp.  If there was one trip where my headlamp would have been useful, it would have been this one, and I forgot it.  Sigh.  So I had to have a buddy if I wanted to do anything during the evening.  Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Newport State Park is at the VERY end of Door County.  It's a pretty good sized state park with about a dozen of wilderness only campsites.  Here is a doctored up map:&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SL2p5HLl4NI/AAAAAAAAFdc/KYOXduWHgVs/s1600-h/Neport+B.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SL2p5HLl4NI/AAAAAAAAFdc/KYOXduWHgVs/s400/Neport+B.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241532339974430930" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please note that the route that I colored red is probably more than half a mile long, it took a good 10 minutes to go from the parking lot to the campsite.  We made this journey many times this weekend because at the parking lot was the little open area in which we had all of our meals and it was also a general congregating area.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More soon...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-5070517271016325894?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/5070517271016325894/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=5070517271016325894' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/5070517271016325894'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/5070517271016325894'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/09/door-co-wisconsin-usa.html' title='Door Co. Wisconsin, USA'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SL2p5HLl4NI/AAAAAAAAFdc/KYOXduWHgVs/s72-c/Neport+B.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-7857324062136859093</id><published>2008-08-30T12:08:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-30T12:10:09.991-05:00</updated><title type='text'>From Door Co.</title><content type='html'>&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Dying,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;then not dying,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;coffee shop&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;cream of carrot soup. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;So much better, &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;relaxing,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;san pellengrino&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;sea kayaking later&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-7857324062136859093?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/7857324062136859093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=7857324062136859093' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/7857324062136859093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/7857324062136859093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/08/from-door-co.html' title='From Door Co.'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-7558179876040653178</id><published>2008-08-29T14:10:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T14:14:41.691-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Endorsements'/><title type='text'>Try it!  You'll LOVE it!</title><content type='html'>I must say, I love love love Archer Farms Lemon Italian Soda.  I got it at Target, otherwise known as the convenience Mecca.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other thing I must endorse is Midwest Airlines.  I adore them because of their wide wide leather seats, their 5 inch wide armrests between wide wide seats and because of the two free warm chocolate chip cookies you get at 30,000 feet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-7558179876040653178?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/7558179876040653178/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=7558179876040653178' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/7558179876040653178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/7558179876040653178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/08/try-it-youll-love-it.html' title='Try it!  You&apos;ll LOVE it!'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-8606515255260799662</id><published>2008-08-28T15:18:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-28T15:23:10.642-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Phone poll'/><title type='text'>In your Opinion....</title><content type='html'>I just received a phone call from Harris Polls!!! I have never gotten to participate in a phone poll before, and I was excited enough to stay on the line and not hang up on the woman I assumed to be a telemarketer.  My opinion is finally being factored in to reveal average American's views!  I have a voice.  You are welcome, America, I did my best.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-8606515255260799662?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/8606515255260799662/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=8606515255260799662' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/8606515255260799662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/8606515255260799662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/08/in-your-opinion.html' title='In your Opinion....'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-5874070831684384287</id><published>2008-08-27T23:46:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-28T00:04:00.420-05:00</updated><title type='text'>28 hours</title><content type='html'>It took me OVER 24 hours to get home from Georgia.  Where I left off, I was still wedged tightly between a rock and that screaming baby in the waiting area.  I got to Transference's apartment, only after paying $40 for a cab from the airport (ouch!).  Next morning, his roommate drove me to the bus stop downtown, where somehow they had wireless internet, glory be!  Two hours later (this puts us at 2pm, which is when I left Macon to begin my journey, 24 hours earlier) I get to Madison, securely fasten my headphones and begin the mile long hike to Trinity to put Amanda on Facebook.  This takes until about 4pm and included many debates about privacy and security and a photo shoot.  But, finally, she is part of the Facebook universe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hinted about getting a ride, and she agreed to be my free taxi.... but WAIT!  The phone rings... its.. its... THAT GUY!  That guy that she has been wanting to have a meeting with for so long!  So... She asks me to walk to her house, relieve the current babysitter of her 3 year old son and watch him while she has her meeting.  Um... ok.  Why not.  We watch the end of the Arisocats, play backwards Fooseball and Curious George Uno.  Amanda returns then, and I finally got to go home, at about 5:30pm.  A full 28 hours after I left Macon, Georgia.  What a ride!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-5874070831684384287?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/5874070831684384287/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=5874070831684384287' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/5874070831684384287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/5874070831684384287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/08/28-hours.html' title='28 hours'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-2358232971240967352</id><published>2008-08-27T23:46:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-27T23:55:37.073-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dreams</title><content type='html'>I have crazy, fucked up dreams.  I know, everyone does, but most people don't remember theirs. While in Georgia I had two whacked out REM sessions. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the first, I was totally part of a threesome who decided to stab their friend to death.  After I helped kill my friend(which I don't remember actually DOING in the dream, thank GOD), I was so sad for a number of reasons.  First, why the hell did I want to kill this person/he did not deserve to die/blah blah blah/Remorse.  Secondly, we are suck idiots!  This needed &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;way&lt;/span&gt; more premeditation than we gave it - we are totally fucked.  Then I woke up and was SO glad I wasn't going to prison.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the second, it was my wedding day, but something was amiss.  I knew I was getting married, but I wasn't wearing a beautiful white gown, and things weren't going right.  The main problem was that I couldn't remember my fiancee's name.  I realized this and then tried to listen to everyone talking... Shouldn't SOMEONE be talking about the man I am going to marry?  Come on, say his name, ask a question about him or something!  But nobody did, and I think I decided his name was either Adam or Andrew.  I made a decision in my dream though.  I decided I didn't care whom I was getting married to because 1. He wants to marry me, and that's good enough and 2.  I am TOTALLY having sex tonight!  YES!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-2358232971240967352?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/2358232971240967352/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=2358232971240967352' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/2358232971240967352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/2358232971240967352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/08/dreams.html' title='Dreams'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-6566503024093294451</id><published>2008-08-25T16:58:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-25T17:22:00.503-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Bordom Blog</title><content type='html'>So.  Readers, welcome to the land between lands, the Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport, concourse D.  That's D as in David, according to the loudspeaker lady.  Today has been quite eventful, beginning with my being woken at 7:30 by screaming outside the house.  Yes, outside, and yes, I was sleeping in the basement.  It must have been loud, that's all I can say.  Anyway, Britt (my 18 y.o. niece) stepped in dog crap (with her bare foot, and got it on her jeans) on her way to the truck and had to come back in to change, but I guess she took too long, cause my hard ass sister left her.  Great way to start the day.  So I got up and ate leftover pot pie with her on my sister's porch.  Took a shower, had a kick ass interview with the country of Poland, packed up and left.  Ate lunch with my sister at a Chinese restaurant and she dropped me off at Groome (van place).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I rock, I slept basically the whole way from Macon to Atlanta.  Here's where the fun really starts.  I was informed that my flight was canceled so now I am on the 7:55 flight to Milwaukee.  This makes it impossible to catch the last Badger Bus, so I plan on staying at Transference's place in Milwaukee tonight.  Unfortunately, he has recently left his phone in Madison, so it is in the mail.  He has no phone.  Even more unfortunately, his car was impounded due to unpaid parking tickets.  Why does life have to be so complicated?  Either way, I now have T's roommate's boyfriend's phone number, and I guess they are going to come get me when I land.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I am a free woman.  I have very few commitments this week, which is wonderful.  I get to help Amanda make herself known on Facebook, talk on the phone with S. Korea, pay for an upcoming trip, and go to an ice cream party.  Heck yea.  All of those sound brilliant.  Sign me up!  Except,wait!  I am already on the list, it's my life!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-6566503024093294451?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/6566503024093294451/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=6566503024093294451' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/6566503024093294451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/6566503024093294451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/08/bordom-blog.html' title='Bordom Blog'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-4353591771993580505</id><published>2008-08-24T06:57:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-27T00:35:41.637-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Many losses for the Company</title><content type='html'>Its early, but I just had a really dumb/scary dream.  I was apparently still unemployed a while from now and I was desperate, so I applied to Culver's of Tomah, where I worked for over two years in high school.  They must have hated me when I really worked there, because I was given only one raise the whole time I worked there, for $.25. But, I loved the atmosphere because nearly all of my best friends were working with me.  I didn't realize it at the time, but, I would never again have it so good in terms of coworkers.  Anyway, in my dream Al (owner) said that he wouldn't rehire me because  I had made 'many losses for the company'.  I walked away stunned, and then helped some guy get his free flavor of the day in a dish.  Losses.  Like hell.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-4353591771993580505?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/4353591771993580505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=4353591771993580505' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/4353591771993580505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/4353591771993580505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/08/many-losses-for-company.html' title='Many losses for the Company'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-6635204520450090876</id><published>2008-08-21T22:33:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-21T22:48:12.591-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Georgia'/><title type='text'>Georgia thus far: In pictures</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SK40UtX5ovI/AAAAAAAAEkk/vLrnbTGnMEM/s1600-h/Sheris+08+010.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SK40UtX5ovI/AAAAAAAAEkk/vLrnbTGnMEM/s320/Sheris+08+010.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237180947060335346" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please focus on my adorable niece Leah and my nephew Russ.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sure I could be killed for this next picture, but it shows off my sister's new belly quite nicely.  Hi MAX!  I took this from the floor of maw maw's hospital room.  She's really sick with cancer...&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SK41HhSAQaI/AAAAAAAAEks/ZKCVfwQYoi0/s1600-h/Sheris+08+011.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SK41HhSAQaI/AAAAAAAAEks/ZKCVfwQYoi0/s320/Sheris+08+011.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237181819987706274" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leah and Russ helped me make bacon wrapped asparagus.  Look at them, all rolling with raw pork!&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SK413VaMVsI/AAAAAAAAEk0/YvvyVufGJ04/s1600-h/Sheris+08+013.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SK413VaMVsI/AAAAAAAAEk0/YvvyVufGJ04/s320/Sheris+08+013.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237182641434547906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, here are my sisters two English Bulldogs.  The darker one is Cookie, the other one is T-bone.  They're sweet.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SK42wFTsXSI/AAAAAAAAEk8/-MG2KnXqzBA/s1600-h/Sheris+08+015.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SK42wFTsXSI/AAAAAAAAEk8/-MG2KnXqzBA/s320/Sheris+08+015.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237183616364862754" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;And, that's Georgia.  Woo hoo!  Stick around for more updates.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-6635204520450090876?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/6635204520450090876/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=6635204520450090876' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/6635204520450090876'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/6635204520450090876'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/08/georgia-thus-far-in-pictures.html' title='Georgia thus far: In pictures'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SK40UtX5ovI/AAAAAAAAEkk/vLrnbTGnMEM/s72-c/Sheris+08+010.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-3928605150820508037</id><published>2008-08-21T21:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-21T21:57:26.753-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I hope it's true</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Scorpio:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't give up yet; the work may be piling up now, but you can get through it all if you just stay focused on what's important. There are, no doubt, all kinds of distractions that can pull you from your mundane commitments, but you'll need to set them aside. Fortunately, the Sun's trine to your key planet Pluto gives you the ability to concentrate your mind power directly on your targeted destination.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-3928605150820508037?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/3928605150820508037/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=3928605150820508037' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/3928605150820508037'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/3928605150820508037'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-hope-its-true.html' title='I hope it&apos;s true'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-7560037131393362180</id><published>2008-08-18T21:50:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-18T22:20:25.442-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Back in the South</title><content type='html'>So YAY!  I am here again.  This place fills me with such mixed emotions.  When I first got here, I was so irritated with the prim and proper way people were existing on the shuttle van.  I mean, how does someone talk on a cell phone not a foot away from me so quietly that I can't even EAVESDROP?  Ugh.  And I was tired, and I dropped my Ipod and couldn't get to it in the cramped little van.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, we don't eat here until like 8:30 every night!  How crazy is that? But, the food is quite good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sheri and her kids fight basically constantly.  This sucks because I know my sister has got to be sick of it, and sometimes her oldest kids treat her like dog shit.  This makes me want to run and knock them down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OhmygoshIlovemysister.  Seriously.  And she is all pregnant and cute like and I think I can tell that she is happy and excited for the new little boy (MAX!) to move in (and out) in December.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I think I am keeping my little Russ awake... he begged to sleep with me tonight.  And I am a giant sucker.  Goodnight!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-7560037131393362180?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/7560037131393362180/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=7560037131393362180' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/7560037131393362180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/7560037131393362180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/08/back-in-south.html' title='Back in the South'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-4792003947539217024</id><published>2008-08-16T10:10:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-16T10:12:34.914-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Teaching blog'/><title type='text'>The beginning of the end</title><content type='html'>Hey.... so I have a new blog, one that is specifically for my adventures in ESL teaching.  Come check it out: &lt;a href="http://teachingmissjen.wordpress.com/"&gt;http://teachingmissjen.wordpress.com&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-4792003947539217024?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/4792003947539217024/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=4792003947539217024' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/4792003947539217024'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/4792003947539217024'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/08/beginning-of-end.html' title='The beginning of the end'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-2096454106382953311</id><published>2008-08-15T19:39:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-15T19:54:16.627-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fine fine fine!</title><content type='html'>Geez.  You wouldn't make me feel bad if you knew how busy I have been.  But NOW, now I am no longer a student, again.  (and I sound like a non-native speaker, I am sorry.  I have been hanging out with Kayleigh.... and learning. Gam sa ham nida is thank you in Korean, so THERE!).  I plan on giving you more details about my life, but I have been working like 12 hours a day, and getting like 6 or 7 hours of sleep a day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um....I can't type at this point. I am in the student dorms and trying to talk to Kayleigh and Izzy, who is quite drunk.  And we are watching the olympics.  I am a multitasker, but I am not that good.  Everyone has their limits.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-2096454106382953311?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/2096454106382953311/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=2096454106382953311' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/2096454106382953311'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/2096454106382953311'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/08/fine-fine-fine.html' title='Fine fine fine!'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-2551911187623378547</id><published>2008-08-11T15:38:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-11T15:42:36.219-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Mother Load</title><content type='html'>So... Job searching was pretty stalled for awhile.  Fear of not finding something, plus this sinking feeling that I wasn't going to get out of here for some time was not motivating me to look online for a job.  But now... I present the greatest thing: www.tefl.com.  Thousands of jobs online.  THOUSANDS.  And all over the world.  Thank you Internet Gods.  Now.  Let me get back to starting this adventure. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-2551911187623378547?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/2551911187623378547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=2551911187623378547' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/2551911187623378547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/2551911187623378547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/08/mother-load.html' title='The Mother Load'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-4648465589512537303</id><published>2008-08-10T23:20:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-10T23:22:19.485-05:00</updated><title type='text'>We have Internet!</title><content type='html'>oh yeah.  Someone loves me and is 'letting' me use their wireless.  But just barely.  Also, I realized later that even if we don't have internet here, it wasn't going to be 24 hours until I was at school.  Try half that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never said that I was a mathematician.  Except that one time, but I lied.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-4648465589512537303?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/4648465589512537303/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=4648465589512537303' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/4648465589512537303'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/4648465589512537303'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/08/we-have-internet.html' title='We have Internet!'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-5629683858560290554</id><published>2008-08-10T19:57:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-10T19:59:33.707-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm out!</title><content type='html'>I am officially leaving my apartment as soon as I.... leave.  Moved all the stuff today, except for the few things in the bathroom and I am on my way.  Weird.  Goodbye Vilas Neighborhood.  Hello Ghetto.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I probably won't have internet access at the new place, so... we will have to live without each other until tomorrow at 8:30am.  Damn these 24 hours might just kill me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-5629683858560290554?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/5629683858560290554/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=5629683858560290554' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/5629683858560290554'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/5629683858560290554'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/08/im-out.html' title='I&apos;m out!'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-6429406027670768319</id><published>2008-08-10T09:19:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-10T09:23:14.656-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes horoscopes are creeeepy.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;When you travel back through your memories today, nostalgia can overtake you, reminding you that something is missing at home. But the real work is to take what you have in life now and project that into the future rather than regressing into your past. Lean on your most reliable friends for the emotional support you need&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a day when I am moving most of my stuff, this seems all too plausible.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-6429406027670768319?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/6429406027670768319/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=6429406027670768319' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/6429406027670768319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/6429406027670768319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/08/sometimes-horoscopes-are-creeeepy.html' title='Sometimes horoscopes are creeeepy.'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-940135340073842914</id><published>2008-08-09T19:30:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-09T19:59:26.653-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Awesome</title><content type='html'>This has been a great weekend thus far.  The week preceding this one was quite stressful, but last night a contingent of MTTPers found a way to relax and let loose.  I am just going to give a little bullet point rundown of the highlights&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Margaritas.  Delish.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Burgers, corn, potato salad, amazing brownies (they lived up to their hype!) snackies&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Beautiful house, with a great view.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;2 hours of quarters&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;1 hour of a new game - 'Drug Dealer'.  I will teach you if you don't know.  This game rocks.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Hot tubbing, pool, hot tub, pool, hot tub.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Round 2 of potato salad&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Accidentally waking up Beth at 3:30am...&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;If any of you MTTPers who were there last night read this- I thank you for a lovely evening.  And some pictures will be on my picasa web album shortly, if you are interested in having a more visual run-down.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-940135340073842914?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/940135340073842914/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=940135340073842914' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/940135340073842914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/940135340073842914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/08/awesome.html' title='Awesome'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-2362865890366731878</id><published>2008-08-05T12:45:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-05T12:48:25.307-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A glimpse</title><content type='html'>Shut up, please!  No, screw that!  just SHUT UP!  What you are saying means nothing to anyone within earshot, so close your damn mouth.  Can't you see that nobody wants to hear what you are saying?  By continuing to talk, you are making my nerves dance on razorblades.  Beware.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is how I feel after 4 hours of class with some really really talkative people...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-2362865890366731878?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/2362865890366731878/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=2362865890366731878' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/2362865890366731878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/2362865890366731878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/08/glimpse.html' title='A glimpse'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-1362182649599388268</id><published>2008-08-01T20:36:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-01T20:52:52.011-05:00</updated><title type='text'>In the pit of my stomach</title><content type='html'>I love to pack.  I have said it over and over.  Somehow I was blessed with almost superhuman spacial reasoning skills when it comes to putting crap in boxes.  The idea of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;moving&lt;/span&gt; gets the adrenaline running and I could pack for hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until now, that is.  Yesterday was the day to conquer the living room and most of the kitchen and organize my crap in the basement.  That went well, besides it being about 100 degrees in my house.  I started packing for real today in my room.  I felt it building as I moved from one area to the next, putting my personal belongings into boxes and sealing them up.  When I got to the picture frames, I almost lost it.  And then, when I found the envelope full of pictures of my old dog, Lady, I couldn't take it anymore.  I just laid down, behind my bed and had a freak out fest. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why am I doing this?  What am I even doing anyway?  I don't know what I am packing FOR!  Where am I going?  What will I need there?  The things that I will miss most are things that I cannot pack into boxes or my suitcase to take with me.  Those things are my family, my friends, the terrace, the farmers market, fireflies, Trinity, Amanda, Barriques, Hoofers.  My memories will travel with me, but I am not sure how to make them companions who don't just remind me of what I don't have, but what I should be happy to have experienced.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is something terribly unnerving to take all of the comforting things off of my walls.  Living in a bare-walled room makes me feel very unsafe, vulnerable and out of place in general.  When I was putting each picture frame away today, I tried not to look at the picture inside.  I knew that I would freak out, but I couldn't help myself.  It feels almost like putting that PERSON away, like I was saying goodbye to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;this&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;moment or &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt; person.  I was putting my life away, in storage, on hold.  I know this is what I am doing.  It's a very lonely feeling.  Probably the loneliest I have ever felt.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-1362182649599388268?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/1362182649599388268/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=1362182649599388268' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/1362182649599388268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/1362182649599388268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/08/in-pit-of-my-stomach.html' title='In the pit of my stomach'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-8869370027529881434</id><published>2008-07-30T22:14:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-30T22:14:13.320-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I did it again.</title><content type='html'>oops.  So I drove home noticably drunk.  yeah, that's spelled wrong.  I dont know how to spell it right now.  At least I wasn't driving a bus or a  plane.  and yes. I know.  No one drives a plane.  The FLy it.  geez  I am not that gone.  I was driving my moped.  Its fo MO Peds.  More pedestrians.  Thats totally where the name comes from.  At least that's what I think it should come from. I am not sure.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tonight was concert on the square.  Last one.  pics?  PICTURES?  you want them....?  ok... here they are! Wait.  where's my camera.  Brb. shit.  i forgot.  Holy man.  I took a TON.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I may or may noy be eating cream cheese by itself.  its a secret.  And the pictures are messed up.  go to my picasa to look at them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-8869370027529881434?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/8869370027529881434/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=8869370027529881434' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/8869370027529881434'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/8869370027529881434'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/07/i-did-it-again.html' title='I did it again.'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-4446137521930896559</id><published>2008-07-29T23:23:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-29T23:25:54.102-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Your magnetic force is just too weak for me</title><content type='html'>It seems as though I will not have to move back to the dreaded homeland just yet.  Instead I will be living with a random woman and her dog, in the glorious Madison Metropolitan Area.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must stand strong against the evil forces of 'moving home'.....  Follow me on my quest.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-4446137521930896559?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/4446137521930896559/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=4446137521930896559' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/4446137521930896559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/4446137521930896559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/07/your-magnetic-force-is-just-too-weak.html' title='Your magnetic force is just too weak for me'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-4109615793809286217</id><published>2008-07-28T23:36:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-29T00:14:35.991-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My peeps miss me</title><content type='html'>Apparently I cannot go on an unexpected hiatus without catching some flack for not blogging.  I formally apologize for neglecting you, internet and internet friends.  I still love you, but my life has recently been hijacked by subjunctive clauses, mingles, lesson planning and damned reading.  Oh yeah, and teaching.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;School is going pretty well.  My relationships with my classmates hasn't progressed much since I last wrote about them, but nothing too strange has happened.  Well, except for the one time when I had a briefcase thrown at my head by a guy I will refer to from here on out as Crass &amp;amp; lacking all social skills, or CLASS.  He's a class act.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This last weekend rocked my socks off.  Friday night I went out with Kelsey for her birthday.  We ate at a Greek place on State and then proceeded toward the capital to see what we could see.  I mean, drink.  I felt more free and uninhibited than I had in... maybe ever, when talking to strangers.  I didn't stutter, I didn't feel embarrassed, I didn't over think things.  I also didn't get too drunk to drive my moped home.  How do I know I wasn't too drunk to drive my moped home?  Cause no one died as a result of my riding my moped home on Friday night, that's how.  Saturday Dad came into town and we went to the farmer's market and shopping.  Around 4 Erin called me and asked if I wanted to join her and her friends at a &lt;a href="http://www.mallardsbaseball.com/home/"&gt;Mallard's game&lt;/a&gt;.  Never before has one impromptu phone call made me feel so loved.  I mean, I was replacing someone, but I was still called!  Someone wants to hang out with me!  The game was really fun.  It was Erin's birthday (and my bestest friend in the whole wide world's birthday too!  Love you friend!  Um, your card is still not in the mail.  Because I suck at life and those stupid lesson plans have jailed me) and she brought a handful of friends and Tina and her brother met us at the game.  I think we had the best time, Tina and I.  We get along pretty well... especially after 3 beers.  Yeah, for the first time in like 3 years I drank while I was still hung over.  Not since Mardi Gras in St. Louis have I done that!  But it worked out just fine.... Except for the part where I peed in a bush later in the night, in downtown Madison.  Yeah.  I did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also have been wanting to post about a really really random dream I had not too long ago.  I was at a urine donation center, you know, donating my urine.  That much is obvious by the fact that I was carrying around a gallon sized ziplock bag full of my own pee.  It was heavy, and I was actually worried about the bag breaking or dropping it.  I mean, that would be gross.  Anyway, I wanted to get a breath of fresh air so I meander outside.  It's raining and there are people smoking out there.  Then this 40 something, unattractive man (who is also there to do some donating, I am guessing) comes up to me and tries to pick me up with some line, WHILE I AM STILL HOLDING A GALLON OF MY OWN PEE.  Even in my dream I can recognize that this is ridiculous.  I spent the rest of the dream avoiding that guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's about all of the updating that you are going to get right now.  OH WAIT!  I have a very promising lead on securing a post-school housing arrangement!  I will have more info tomorrow evening.  You will (probably) be kept abreast.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-4109615793809286217?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/4109615793809286217/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=4109615793809286217' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/4109615793809286217'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/4109615793809286217'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/07/my-peeps-miss-me.html' title='My peeps miss me'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-2838775132619394409</id><published>2008-07-23T23:46:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-23T23:47:59.189-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Word</title><content type='html'>You can tell that I am doing a lot of work because, I am just so fucking sick of opening Microsoft Word.  Those 5 seconds of waiting just piss me off.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-2838775132619394409?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/2838775132619394409/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=2838775132619394409' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/2838775132619394409'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/2838775132619394409'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/07/word.html' title='Word'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-5613738368047923271</id><published>2008-07-22T22:02:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-22T22:04:42.584-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Chicago pics</title><content type='html'>See my &lt;a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/jensouthworth"&gt;picasa web albums&lt;/a&gt; for pics from chicago.  Some of them I am pretty proud of.  :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-5613738368047923271?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/5613738368047923271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=5613738368047923271' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/5613738368047923271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/5613738368047923271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/07/chicago-pics.html' title='Chicago pics'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-4154949549197947581</id><published>2008-07-21T15:34:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-22T22:12:30.662-05:00</updated><title type='text'>When furniture attacks</title><content type='html'>It's 4pm, class got over an hour ago.  I don't want to go home, because its like 85 degrees and just disgusting in my house.  Here at school it's air conditioned but my work is frustrating me.  I am hungry but it's too early for dinner.  I don't have any available friends to distract me.   It's a bad place to be in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of what I am feeling is such a contrast to what I was feeling over the weekend.  Chicago was really great.  My anxiety was low or non existent the whole time, I actually felt &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;glee&lt;/span&gt; for a while.  Most of the time, I felt competent, relaxed, and confident.  Right now, I feel like I don't know what I am doing, that I am incapable of teaching and coming up with ideas to do every single day.  I am worried that my classmates actually don't like me - that last week was just completely different.  If you can't tell, I also am having great difficulty expressing myself.  Maybe blogging isn't the best thing for me right now, considering.  At least it provides a reason for me to sit here and waste time in the cool air.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope this is hormonal and that it ends soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night something crazy happened.  Really crazy.  1:45am.  I hear a loud BANG!  It only half wakes me up, but then there was a second sound.  I rolled over, and turned on my lamp.  When I look toward where I thought I heard the sound, I see my dresser has fallen forward onto my floor.  I got up, walked over to my dresser, it's drawers all half pulled out and holding up the main body.  I almost couldn't comprehend what I was looking at, so I just stood over the mess, looking down on it.  After a minute, I realized I should set my dresser back up, because the way it was laying was putting stress on the slats between the drawers.  I manage to push the big part of it back up so that it is standing.  It's back legs were then resting on something, so I have pull that stuff out to get it to stay standing.  The books that were on the floor were under the dresser before, I put them there to even out the incredibly crooked floor, but now they were making it so that the dresser wanted to fall forward again.  After I got it to stand up and be pretty steady, I surveyed the damage.  Two of the lower slats are broken, so the drawers won't go back in where they belong, so I tried to stack them on the floor.  This is when you can tell that I had just woken up because everyone knows that dresser drawers don't stack, they just can't with the way they are shaped.  So I semi stacked them, went to the bathroom and went back to bed, slightly freaked out that my dresser would fall over &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;by itself&lt;/span&gt;, while I am sleeping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I am in a bad mood because I didn't get much sleep last night and started my day frustrated.  Maybe this is residual frustration.  I shouldn't focus on it, I guess.  I will try to post pictures of the trip soon.  I have some good ones.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-4154949549197947581?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/4154949549197947581/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=4154949549197947581' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/4154949549197947581'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/4154949549197947581'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/07/when-furnature-attacks.html' title='When furniture attacks'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-5866962381152711068</id><published>2008-07-17T22:03:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-17T23:20:31.587-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='MTTP'/><title type='text'>Class Act</title><content type='html'>I want my readers to know that those rumors that they have been hearing are... COMPLETELY TRUE.  I am back in school!  I have 'gone back' to school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am in the Midwest Teacher Training Program (MTTP) at the Wisconsin English as a Second Language Institute (WESLI).  It's right across the street from the capital, in a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;beautiful&lt;/span&gt; old building.  It's one of those three storied, skinny hallwayed, exposed brick buildings where you have to take three different stairwells and five corners just to get to your classroom.  It's somewhat maze-like.  The 12 students share an office in the basement (we each get our own desk space), near the lounge and computer lab.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have 4 major classes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Skills 1 - How to teach oral communication and listening skills&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Skills 2 - How to teach reading and writing skills&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Lesson Planning - How to write effective lesson plans&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Grammar- yeah.  Past perfect progressive, gerunds, auxiliaries and the like &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;I also get the experience of actually TEACHING ten 50 minute classes spread throughout the 5 weeks.  Because MTTP is part of WESLI, we have foreigners who travel here to learn English, and we get to use them as guinea pigs!  All of the MTTP students are paired up and assigned a class that meets for 2 hours, twice a week.  We each teach for 50 minutes and observe while our partner is teaching.  For each time teaching we have to make up a complete lesson plan, teach, observe, write up an observation on your partner, and work with your partner on a reflection of the implementation of the lesson plan.  It's a SHIT TON of work.  For real.  But I think I can do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In addition to all of that, we have two or three 50 minute observations a week for various classes above, which we then write journal reflections on.  Generally there is homework for all of the main classes for every meeting too.  Each class meets twice a week, for two hours at a time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pfew.  I just got a handle on that all yesterday.  It's a little overwhelming, but I am really enjoying the challenge.  There are only 12 or 13 students at MTTP, so we all have the same classes and I have really enjoyed getting to know them.  We are a pretty diverse group in terms of backgrounds and goals.  I think I have already made some friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi MTTP-ers!  One fun chick asked if I had a blog today and I told her she could find it via Facebook... I will call her Frenchglasses.  FG for short.  She studied french for some time and has cool glasses.  So FG, Maniguy (Manitowoc Guy), Guy  (his real name!), and LAO (I am not explaining this, just accept it!) skipped next door after class today to The Old Fashioned.  Four in the afternoon, and we were going drinking.  We didn't have much choice, because The Old Fashioned was celebrating selling its 100,000th Old Fashioned!  So on special?! $1.50 Old Fashioneds!!!  That is not something you pass on.  We had a good time tonight.  I hope we become better friends.  YAY friends!  Oh, I have pictures!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is Maniguy and FG, working on homework at the bar!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SIAYBt3XlFI/AAAAAAAAD9E/0Yx1Svl1Dzo/s1600-h/MTTP+036.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SIAYBt3XlFI/AAAAAAAAD9E/0Yx1Svl1Dzo/s200/MTTP+036.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224201985520538706" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A picture of my homework for Lesson Planning that's due tomorrow.  I had to get it done sometime, I might as well drink a brandy old fashioned sweet while I work!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SIAY4JK2L0I/AAAAAAAAD9M/1VVUwAqipEs/s1600-h/MTTP+037.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SIAY4JK2L0I/AAAAAAAAD9M/1VVUwAqipEs/s200/MTTP+037.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224202920562929474" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maniguy, FG and I after a couple!  We look happy, right?  I hope we can keep it up!&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SIAZZmZEogI/AAAAAAAAD9U/pkyPDTl-cXg/s1600-h/MTTP+040.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SIAZZmZEogI/AAAAAAAAD9U/pkyPDTl-cXg/s200/MTTP+040.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224203495342907906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-5866962381152711068?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/5866962381152711068/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=5866962381152711068' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/5866962381152711068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/5866962381152711068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/07/class-act.html' title='Class Act'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SIAYBt3XlFI/AAAAAAAAD9E/0Yx1Svl1Dzo/s72-c/MTTP+036.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-8059657499887532521</id><published>2008-07-16T22:28:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-16T22:29:40.203-05:00</updated><title type='text'>undeniable</title><content type='html'>So... I chose to sober up, and do my homework now.  I may never sleep tonight.  There is so much homework!  Why?!  I will tell you why!  Cause after this, I am going to be one mad ass teacher, that's why!  Look out world.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-8059657499887532521?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/8059657499887532521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=8059657499887532521' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/8059657499887532521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/8059657499887532521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/07/undeniable.html' title='undeniable'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-1894226292853129230</id><published>2008-07-16T21:20:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-16T21:21:29.898-05:00</updated><title type='text'>eeek!</title><content type='html'>So... Somehow I got drunk on the capital lawn.  And now, I am not sure if I can complete my homework coherently.  Eee gads!  Do I try to sober up now, or get up early tomorrow?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-1894226292853129230?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/1894226292853129230/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=1894226292853129230' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/1894226292853129230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/1894226292853129230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/07/eeek.html' title='eeek!'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-3688978627943728884</id><published>2008-07-15T22:23:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-15T23:31:05.717-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Nermal Races</title><content type='html'>Garfield always sent Nermal to Abu Dhabi.  I have only been trying to think of that for &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;weeks&lt;/span&gt;.  Glad it's out there in a place where I know I can find it again when I need to.  I know I will need to, it's just a matter of time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So.  Yeah.  Been busy over here at the FrenchRangoon headquarters.  So busy that it was starting to feel overwhelming to think about updating you all.  I mean, I know you know what I have been up to, so why update?   I guess you might want to know how I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;feel&lt;/span&gt; about it all, with &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;feelings &lt;/span&gt;and stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wrote about how I was having stress dreams, right?  Well, I thought maybe I would have one sleepless night and then I would be so tired from that night (this would be Saturday night) that sleeping would be a piece of cake the next day.  No such luck for this girl.  I was having those crazy stupid kinds of dreams that I have when I am super stressed out from work. I mean, I obviously wasn't dreaming about idiots waking me up from my sleep on the floor behind the counter at a chocolate shop, wanting to buy truffles at 3am.  But I was half waking up, over and over, thinking that 'TODAYS THE RACE' and I must get up now, so that I am not late!  Or, everyone is here, why are you not racing?!  I don't think the situation was helped much by the fact that I am &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;completely, 100%, scarily obsessed&lt;/span&gt; with reading &lt;a href="http://www.dooce.com"&gt;dooce&lt;/a&gt; from the beginning.    That is a totally different topic, but let's just say that everything I was doing was being narrated in the voice (and comedy) of Heather Armstrong.  That's entertaining and all, but it doesn't help when you are half awake and your situation is being read to you in a strangers voice in the form of a blog post.  A funny blog post, sure, but still.  I just wanted to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So getting up for my race was not the prettiest thing.  I just didn't feel like it.  And then I get there, and I find out that not everyone that I expected to come actually showed up... (and let's just say that the person who didn't show up was supposed to be someone else's ride, and that person who was supposed to be driving was the one person I was most excited to have there, and that person didn't even call me to tell me they weren't coming, and still hasn't expressed that they feel bad about it or anything.  Yes, he/she had a good excuse, a great excuse really, but... you could still be sorry.  Maybe you aren't.  Fine then.)  Okay, I feel a little better after that rant.  Anyway, my friend Mike&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; biked&lt;/span&gt; TEN miles to come and see me run a measly 5k.  And not very well, either, mind you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There, I said it, I pretty much sucked it up on the whole race thing.  I didn't even care that much.  Maybe if I would have had someone to run with me, that would have been more motivation, but I just.. I just didn't care very much.  And it was windy and there was ZERO shade on the whole route.  So I came in like 180th place.  Haha.  That sounds so ROCKIN'!  Whatever.  When I rounded the final corner, and started running up the 'Quaker Steak and Lube' driveway, there was a woman about 10 or 15 feet in front of me.  Something clicked inside of me, the little competitive demon was awakened and I decided that I must catch that chick and beat her to the line.  And, that's what I did.  She didn't respond to me being directly behind her, but then the crowd started to indicate that I was making a move, so she sped up.  And I totally sped up too, and kicked her ass.  I am so glad that I had the energy at the end to go over the line running full out.  It kind of makes up for the times when I walked because I just didn't care enough. lol.  And yes, if I ever get pictures from my mom and aunt, I will post them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then school started, and I am way too tired to post about that right now.  So you will have to wait, again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-3688978627943728884?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/3688978627943728884/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=3688978627943728884' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/3688978627943728884'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/3688978627943728884'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/07/nermal-races.html' title='Nermal Races'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-676516478419252272</id><published>2008-07-13T18:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-13T18:20:08.726-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Declaration</title><content type='html'>I love nutella on pancakes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I know what you are thinking and thats just too freaking bad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-676516478419252272?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/676516478419252272/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=676516478419252272' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/676516478419252272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/676516478419252272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/07/declaration.html' title='Declaration'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-7368341356983769560</id><published>2008-07-12T19:12:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-12T21:15:09.495-05:00</updated><title type='text'>All I really want</title><content type='html'>After making a big pot of spaghetti with yummy sauce, and a side of garlic bread, I realized that all I really wanted was the garlic bread.  And that's what I'll eat.  It's full of yummy carbs.  I guess that's what I need.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-7368341356983769560?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/7368341356983769560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=7368341356983769560' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/7368341356983769560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/7368341356983769560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/07/all-i-really-want.html' title='All I really want'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-5678775970858047685</id><published>2008-07-12T10:14:00.011-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-12T12:22:17.939-05:00</updated><title type='text'>James J. Chocolate Shop</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SHjLoJLfzKI/AAAAAAAAD74/j3fN25mzPuE/s1600-h/CIMG0266.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SHjLoJLfzKI/AAAAAAAAD74/j3fN25mzPuE/s200/CIMG0266.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222147658455436450" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is my very last day at James J. Chocolate shop.  I have worked here since late February of 2006, which puts me at almost 30 months, 2.5 years.  I only have 6 hours left.  It's strange.  But I even put on the smock to make it more official.  I usually only wear this thing if we are going to be so busy that I don't have time to throw my plastic gloves away in the trash can, cause the smock has pockets!  But I am working more than usual today, just to get it all out of my system.  You know, all that tray filling and...tray filling.  Yeah, thats about all there is to do today, maybe I will find something to bag.  We'll see.  And now, a little James J. slideshow. (or series of pictures that you have to scroll down to see - I am not talented enough to actually embed a slideshow.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SHjn7KT8Z-I/AAAAAAAAD84/bVVrheq--iE/s1600-h/Winter+2008+052.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SHjn7KT8Z-I/AAAAAAAAD84/bVVrheq--iE/s200/Winter+2008+052.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222178771502393314" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SHjL412bfSI/AAAAAAAAD8A/FB6nDBvmKHA/s1600-h/CIMG0268.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SHjL412bfSI/AAAAAAAAD8A/FB6nDBvmKHA/s200/CIMG0268.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222147945324576034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SHjPXo6mg_I/AAAAAAAAD8g/o3uNcGsEPTw/s1600-h/Winter+2008+060.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SHjPXo6mg_I/AAAAAAAAD8g/o3uNcGsEPTw/s200/Winter+2008+060.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222151772963242994" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SHjMpfrjH6I/AAAAAAAAD8I/ejNkBIYzJQc/s1600-h/CIMG0752.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SHjMpfrjH6I/AAAAAAAAD8I/ejNkBIYzJQc/s200/CIMG0752.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222148781186949026" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SHjZKurrKZI/AAAAAAAAD8w/htE_7ZLnSDo/s1600-h/Winter+2008+055.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Summer, Christmas, Valentine's Day and Easter, the four seasons at James J.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SHjZKurrKZI/AAAAAAAAD8w/htE_7ZLnSDo/s1600-h/Winter+2008+055.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SHjZKurrKZI/AAAAAAAAD8w/htE_7ZLnSDo/s200/Winter+2008+055.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222162546289224082" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-5678775970858047685?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/5678775970858047685/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=5678775970858047685' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/5678775970858047685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/5678775970858047685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/07/james-j-chocolate-shop.html' title='James J. Chocolate Shop'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ps6ogOuBh_0/SHjLoJLfzKI/AAAAAAAAD74/j3fN25mzPuE/s72-c/CIMG0266.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-383348730584309940.post-3442419727438082591</id><published>2008-07-11T12:56:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-11T12:58:01.422-05:00</updated><title type='text'>200 posts!</title><content type='html'>Well, actually its 201.... but that makes it that much more awesome! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Loving the song 'Love Astronaut' by Murder Mystery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;only 12 more hours of work!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/383348730584309940-3442419727438082591?l=frenchrangoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/feeds/3442419727438082591/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=383348730584309940&amp;postID=3442419727438082591' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/3442419727438082591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/383348730584309940/posts/default/3442419727438082591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchrangoon.blogspot.com/2008/07/200-posts.html' title='200 posts!'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06705047450894649561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
